Life and Love in Camelot
by MsPercival
Summary: This story chronicles the love (and sex!) lives of four knights of Camelot. Percival falls in love with the tavern owner's daughter. Gwaine's finally smitten. The normally-proper Leon is head-over-heels for a much younger woman. Arthur and Guinevere are trying to conceive. What will stand in the way of their happiness? The course of true love never did run smooth. Rated M.
1. Chapter 1 An Evening Walk

**A/N - Thank you for reading this and joining me on my journey. This is my first ever fanfiction work. Can you believe it? Welcome! **

**I really look forward to interacting with my readers, so PLEASE feel free to PM me, send suggestions, leave reviews, etc. If you have a question, just ask. I don't bite, I promise.**

**Now, let me tell you a little bit about this story...**

**First and foremost, this is a romance/love story. It chronicles how four different knights fall in love, and all of the joy, angst, passion (LOTS of passion), and challenges that come with it. The knights are the "stars" of the story, with Sir Percival being the main character. He was fairly quiet in the "Merlin" series, which made my imagination run wild with ideas about him. Thus, this story was born! **

**The other primary characters are Gwaine, Ulrich (a knight of my own creation), and Leon. There's also plenty of Arthur, too. And since this is my story, Arthur and Gwaine live. Hooray!**

**I know this will disappoint some, but Merlin is really more of a background character in this story (sorry!). **

**Further, I have taken some liberties with age in this story. Specifically, I made Percival a few years younger than he probably is in the series, but only a few. **

**And a warning - this piece is absolutely, most certainly rated "M." Beginning in chapter three/four, there's lots of highly-descriptive sex. If you don't want to read about sex, or are offended by rated "M" stories, please, please do not read this. I don't want to upset anyone. However, the majority of the sex is within the confines of loving relationships, so I hope that helps. **

**One FINAL warning - the story has occasional violence/blood/childbirth, and I will provide warnings at the beginnings of those chapters. There are also a couple of sexual assaults, and I realize that may be very difficult or painful for some people to read. I will absolutely warn you in the beginning of a chapter when those come up so you can skip them, if you wish to do so.**

**Lastly, this story begins a few months before Camlann, but the majority of it is post-battle. **

**Thanks for joining me, readers. This story is going to be over 150,000 words (30-plus chapters) so we may be together for a while. I love you already!**

**PS - If you find any errors or something isn't clear, please let me know! **

**PPS - I am not affiliated with the BBC, Shine, and do not own Merlin in any way, other than in my heart.**

Chapter 1 - An Evening Walk

Sir Percival Martel, age twenty and a loyal knight in the service of the great King Arthur Pendragon of Camelot, sat comfortably in the clean but well-worn Rising Sun tavern. He was enjoying a flagon of ale with his friends, Sir Gwaine (his best mate) Sir Leon, and Merlin, King Arthur's manservant and close friend.

At 6'5", Percival stood out in a group of men. He was so large and well-muscled that the arms of his chainmail had been removed in order to avoid confining his movements. After all, a knight with restricted movement can easily become an injured knight, or worse.

Percival was a handsome man who had short dark-blond hair, steel-grey eyes, a strong jaw, and a kind yet slightly-crooked smile. He was the most quiet and level-headed of all Arthur's knights. He wasn't one to raise his voice unnecessarily, show-off, or make displays of bad temper.

Despite all this, Percival still found himself filled with fear and trepidation over the simple act of talking to a woman; he'd faced ruthless Saxon warlords in battle, so why was approaching the tavern owner's daughter so daunting?

Christiane Port was eighteen years old and quite attractive. Being 5'6", tall and sturdily built, she mostly didn't realize it. However, many of Camelot's men admired her. Christiane had long, straight, raven-colored hair which fell to her waist, bright blue eyes, pale skin, and a full and curvy build. It was not her appearance, however, that drew Percival's interest. Rather, it was the kindness she displayed, along with graciousness, intelligence, and an ambitious nature.

Christiane and her father, Will, had moved to Camelot just a few months prior. Having been old friends with Evoric, the previous tavern owner, Will had begun helping his friend in the well-loved establishment. Evoric finally admitted to Will that he was looking to sell his business and enjoy some travel with his wife. Will was all too happy to purchase the tavern. Therefore, Christiane still felt like a bit of a stranger in Camelot, even though her closest friend had relocated there right around the same time.

"Percival, what on earth is wrong with you?" Gwaine's voice cut through the sound of tavern-chatter. "You look like an agitated stoat! Actually, no, don't answer that; I know exactly what's troubling you." Gwaine tilted his head briefly in Christiane's direction as she stood behind the bar, nose buried in a book.

"Gwaine, don't!" Percival growled in a low voice, not wanting to attract attention.

Gwaine stood. "Well, if you're not going to make a move my friend, I think I will," he pronounced with slightly-drunken bravado, and rose from his seat.

Percival grabbed his friend's arm with a vice-like grip. "If you would just give me a moment, I'll talk to her!"

Gwaine laughed heartily, his brown eyes bright with humor as he scoffed, "A moment? You've been eyeing her for the last two months! All right, I'll give you a moment."

Percival shot Merlin a pleading look, hoping the young servant would somehow come to his rescue.

"Don't look at me," Merlin offered, smiling and shaking his black, closely-cropped but still messy hair. "I'm the last person to give advice about women. Or managing Gwaine, for that matter."

Leon advised, "I suggest you get a move-on before Sir Aled wears her down. I've seen him nosing around the bar, trying to strike up conversation."

Percival realized he needed to act and stood, palms sweaty and gut roiling. He walked toward the bar, feeling as if approaching the gallows, hoping his recently-consumed ale would remain in his stomach. As he approached, Christiane looked up and smiled cheerfully.

"Hello, Sir Percival. Can I get something for you?"

Percival looked startled. This was the first time Christiane had ever addressed him directly, and the sound of her voice speaking his name caught him off-guard.

"What? Oh, no, no," he answered. "I was just um, I um, ahem...was wondering what you're reading," he stammered rapidly and nervously.

Christiane looked a little puzzled, but replied, "Well, this is a book about herbs. I have a few others here on anatomy and healing, and another on the Frankish language." She smiled and continued. "Believe me, learning Frankish is more difficult than you might think."

"I can imagine," Percival replied. He then froze as fear overwhelmed him; he had absolutely no idea what to say next and his mind was hopelessly blank. Finally, after a painful few moments of shifting his weight from foot to foot, he mumbled, "I, um, I'd better get back to the others." He all but ran back to his seat.

"What the hell happened?" Gwaine quizzed as Percival arrived.

"It was terrible," Percival answered miserably, ashen-faced. "I asked her what she was reading and then I ran away like a frightened little girl." He dropped his head with a heavy "thunk" onto the scarred wooden table and groaned. At his core Percival was a gentleman, a bit shy, and had limited experience approaching women.

Gwaine put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Calm down. You haven't made a total mess of things just yet. Why don't you come back after the tavern's closed and offer to walk her home?"

Percival lifted his head slowly and peered at Gwaine. "For someone who drinks and carouses so much, you've got a good head on your shoulders. I like that idea. I'll do it! But I have to leave now. See you men later." Percival tossed his coins down onto the table and fled from the building.

For the next two hours, he sat under a tree in the dark, waiting for the tavern to close. Percival wanted to be alone with his thoughts for a while, without having Gwaine taunt him. Though the man was his best friend, he could sometimes be rough on the nerves.

Percival used the time he spent waiting in thought: What would he say to Christiane? What would he do? What if she laughed in his face when he asked to walk her home? Maybe he should just live in a cave as a hermit. After mentally mapping out the route to the nearest isolated cave, he instead decided to get up and face Christiane, telling himself, _What's the worst that could happen, other than her laughing in my face?_

He walked slowly back to the tavern. Drawing closer, he saw Christiane standing outside of the tavern door, adjusting her light wrap and fumbling with her keys.

As a knight, Percival was used to moving cautiously and quietly. He emerged from the shadows and said, "Hello, Christiane. I was wondering…" She jumped, screamed with surprise, and dropped her keys to the ground.

"I'm so sorry!" Percival said, completely embarrassed. "I didn't mean to frighten you." Percival bent to retrieve her keys at the same time Christiane did, and both skulls connected with a firm "thwack."

Standing and rubbing the sore spot on his head, the large knight moaned, "This is not going well at all. I apologize. I just came by to ask if I could walk you home. But instead, I've terrified you and practically knocked you unconscious."

Christiane laughed heartily. "It's okay. You just startled me coming out of the shadows like that. I wasn't expecting to see anyone at this hour." She continued on with a teasing grin. "You do know I live right at that corner, don't you?" she said as she gestured to a home only several yards away.

His heart pounding, Percival stammered, "I, um, I do. But I wondered if we might take a longer route..."

Christiane narrowed her eyes suspiciously. Though a newer resident Camelot, she'd already heard numerous stories about the knights and their antics with women. She'd heard nothing specific about Percival, but was still cautious. "You're a knight of Camelot. Don't you have women throwing themselves at your feet daily?"

"No, that would be Gwaine," Percival answered seriously, missing her sarcasm.

Still unconvinced, Christiane asked, "May I speak to you plainly, Percival?"

"I wish you would," he responded honestly.

She locked eyes with him and said forcefully, "I want to make it clear that I'm not easy prey, nor am I a fool."

Percival, flustered and somewhat taken aback, answered, "No, of course not! I've seen the way you manage the drunkards in the tavern. You're a force to be reckoned with! And you're smart, with all of that reading…" he chattered on nervously, before taking a breath. "Forgive me. I'm shy, and have little experience talking with women. I'm feeling very big and clumsy right about now. I apologize if I gave offense." He bowed his head slightly.

Christiane relaxed. "You didn't offend me," she assured him. "I just wanted to make sure things were clear. And you are a bit of a physically intimidating fellow, I'll give you that.

"But you do have kind eyes," she observed, and decided, "All right, you can walk me home the long way. We can go through the Lower Town and back."

"That sounds perfect." Percival exhaled with relief, heartbeat finally slowing somewhat. "Would you care to take my arm?"

"I'm not sure my hand can fit around it, but I'll certainly try," Christiane joked with a wink. She took his arm and they walked toward the large pond in center of Camelot.

Percival inquired as they walked along, "Do you mind if I ask you about your books?"

"Are you going to ask me what a woman wants with such books?" Christiane asked, narrowing her eyes ever so slightly. It was uncommon that a woman would choose to study serious subjects. Or, that a woman should read at all.

"No, no! I was curious, why those particular books?"

Christiane nodded and answered, "My brother, Evann, is doing a healing apprenticeship across the Narrow Sea. When he comes home next year, I thought it would be fun to surprise him by speaking Frankish. And I adore the sound of the language.

"As for the healing books, I haven't told many people but I dream of doing a healing apprenticeship, like my brother. But that's hard to do." She shook her head solemnly. "If you're a woman, and don't have a family member skilled in healing who is willing to teach you, it's almost impossible. I mean, I do enjoy the tavern work, but I want something different one day."

"I can understand that completely," said Percival.

As they wandered on, Christiane changed the subject and asked, "How long have you lived in Camelot?"

"A little more than ten years. I lived on a small farm in a village on the very edge of Camelot until I was nine years old, with my parents, Yale and Madlen, and my younger sister, Deryn. That is, until Cenred's men raided us, and killed them. All of them," he stated, his voice catching ever so slightly before continuing. "Owen, the farmer, was a widower, and he took me in. He's been a father to me ever since."

Christiane felt tears threatening to spill and willed them not to, before remarking, "I'm all too familiar with Cenred's ways; I lived in his kingdom until a few months ago, when my father and I moved here.

"He was a barbarian and most of us were grateful when he died."

She turned toward Percival, reached out, and touched his jaw gently. "Your family had such beautiful names. All three of them. I'm so sorry, Percival. You've had a terrible loss, but you're not bitter. In fact, you seem like a good soul."

Percival grinned, comforted by her touch, and tried to shrug off the suddenly somber mood. "Oh, let's not get sad! It was a long time ago. I've done a good deal of traveling since then, as well as learning to use the sword. I wasn't the best farmer," he said with a touch of humor in his voice. "Life has been fairly kind to me since."

A short time later, Percival realized their stroll was almost finished. "We're nearly at your house. I was wondering if I might walk you home again tomorrow night. After that, I'm on late patrol for a few evenings, but I would like to see you tomorrow, if you agree."

Christiane looked at the hulking knight thoughtfully. Percival feared she was about to say no, and his heart sank.

"I would really enjoy that," she said, and stood on her toes to give him a quick peck on the cheek.

"Tomorrow night it is, then," Percival replied and gently kissed her hand. He thought he might have seen a faint blush on her cheeks.

Once Christiane was safely inside her home and out of earshot, he pumped his fist in the air, and whispered, "Yes!" before returning to his quarters in the castle.

XXXX

The next day passed painfully slowly for Christiane, despite her usual full schedule.

Normally her household chores, working in the tavern, spending time with her best friend Carina, and studying kept her mind well occupied. Today, however, her concentration and focus wavered.

Pausing briefly in her duties, Christiane reflected she was incredibly grateful that Carina had moved to Camelot at the same time as she. The two girls had grown up together and were very close in age. Christiane simply couldn't imagine a life without her good friend and confidante.

While engaged in her work, she kept recalling her time with Percival the previous night, and looked forward to their walk that evening. She smiled, shaking her head in embarrassment as her thoughts dwelled on the way his smile lit up his face.

The hours dragged on incredibly slowly, no matter how hard she willed them to pass. Finally, closing time arrived. And as promised, Percival waited outside for Christiane.

"See?" he said. "No sneaking up on you or knocking heads today." Percival bowed and asked formally, "Are you ready, my lady?" and offered his arm for her to take.

As they sauntered through the quiet back streets in the crisp evening air, Percival commented, "I was impressed by your kindness toward that beggar who came into the tavern the week after you and your father took over. When he entered, people yelled at him to leave, but you didn't. You ignored them all and took him outside gently. And I saw you slip him a coin as well. Weren't you worried he'd keep coming back?"

Christiane shook her head. "I came from Engerd, where poverty and begging was common. If I have the ability to help anybody, just a little, I will always do so. That could easily be one of us; we never know when our fortunes or health will change. My mother Joan, dying of the sweating sickness when I was three taught me that. Though I don't remember much about her."

Percival nodded and expressed his condolences, understanding the pain of losing a parent. He also felt his heart swell with admiration for Christiane. Admiration and something else he couldn't exactly identify…

XXXX

A couple of days later, Percival and Gwaine stopped by the tavern for a quick bite following their early-evening training session. Percival hoped to see Christiane, but she either wasn't there or was busy in the kitchen. As they devoured their onion-stuffed beef rolls, Gwaine proclaimed that the savory treat was the best thing he'd ever eaten.

"You'd say dirt was the best thing you'd ever eaten following a hard training session," Percival pointed out as he crammed another substantial bite of the delicious treat into his mouth.

The two friends had just finished their meals when Lady Elora, a young courtier from the castle, approached Percival from behind and began to massage his shoulders. Elora was nineteen, blonde, slightly built with a tiny waist, yet very buxom. Of course, at that very moment, Christiane emerged from the kitchen and took her place behind the bar.

_Oh, no,_ Percival thought. He was not at all a fan of the overly-friendly Elora, and he couldn't imagine how this familiarity must appear to Christiane.

"Um, Elora…" Percival started, "…would you mind removing…"

Gwaine, ever the perceptive and loyal friend, vaulted out of his seat and flung himself into Percival's lap, sending the chair skidding back a good three feet and nearly knocking over the young woman in the process.

Gwaine threw his arms around Percival's neck, and said, in a very high-pitched, feminine voice, "Oh, Percival! You're so big and strong, I've decided I like men now. Give us a kiss, will you?" Gwaine made loud and exaggerated kissing sounds and the entire tavern roared with laughter.

For a moment, Percival thought Gwaine had gone mad. It took him a few seconds to realize Gwaine was trying to save him from Elora's attentions, and prevent Christiane from becoming upset. Percival played along.

"Oh, Gwaine!" he said in what he thought was a high-pitched falsetto, but actually sounded ridiculous coming from a man of his size, "Finally, after all of this time!"

Elora stood still, a few feet away from the chair, watching the display dumbly without budging. Finally, in desperation, Gwaine mimed kissing Percival, having covered his mouth with his hand first, and knocked their chair over onto the floor with a loud crash. As the tavern patrons howled with laughter at the knights' antics, Elora decided she'd had enough and stormed from the tavern with her nose in the air.

"Dear God, please tell me she's gone," Gwaine muttered into Percival's ear.

"I think so," he replied.

Aware that all eyes were on him, Gwaine stood, pushed his shoulder-length brown locks out of his face with a flourish, and theatrically straightened his tunic.

"Actually, I've changed my mind!" announced Gwaine, helping Percival to his feet. "I really don't like men after all. And certainly not YOU!" Gwaine reached for his tankard to drain his ale in one long gulp.

Percival swatted Gwaine's arm and turned to walk up to Christiane at the bar, only to find Sir Aled had beaten him to the punch. He stood nearby and listened to their exchange.

"Christiane! Have you considered my marriage proposal yet?" Aled teased as he leaned against the wooden divider.

Aled was a friendly young man, nice in his own way, but Christiane simply wasn't interested.

"I can't say that I have," the young woman said, grinning.

"But why not? We'd have the finest sons in all of Camelot!" he offered. "Your looks and brains, my strength and skills…" He flexed his arm, demonstrating what he felt was his obvious prowess.

Percival's hands balled into fists as he took his seat once again, his ears peeled.

"As appealing as that might sound to some, I actually have my eye on someone else."

"Who?" demanded Aled, before whining, "Please don't say Gwaine. Every woman loves Gwaine!"

Christiane shook her head.

"Michael? Erec? Leon? Percival?"

"All right, quiz time is over," Christiane declared, returning to her studies.

Aled sighed with a good-natured smile. "FINE, then. But if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me."

Percival waited a couple of minutes for the patrons to return to their own conversations, and then approached the bar.

Christiane looked up, winked at him and said, "Quite the evening, eh?"

"Quite," he agreed. "Care for another stroll tonight?"

Christiane smiled cheerfully and said, "I would like nothing more."

XXXX

Over the next two weeks, Percival and Christiane continued their evening walks whenever he did not have night duty. Both of them looked forward to this time together a great deal, and used the hours to discuss their childhoods, nature, friends, family, and their interests.

One night, instead of offering his arm to Christiane, Percival extended his hand, and she took it. The knight threaded his strong fingers between her more delicate ones, and felt a slight rush of contentment, but he did his best to conceal it from his companion.

Christiane, unaware of his feelings, chattered on and proceeded to tell Percival about the one and only time she had been fishing with her brother.

"I tell you, it was a terrifying experience for a seven-year-old. I caught an eel, and it scared me to death! It was huge, covered with slime, writhing disgustingly," Christine explained with her nose wrinkled. "I screamed and cried, and begged my brother to unhook it. But he just laughed and waved the horrid creature in my face. I never went fishing again after that."

"We shall remedy that!" exclaimed Percival, laughing. "I'm going to take you fishing on Sunday, if you're available. I can come by your home with my horse just before sunrise. He can carry us both."

"Before sunrise?" Christiane questioned.

Percival laughed. "Yes, early morning. It's the best time to fish. Oh, and what's your favorite color?"

"My favorite color?" asked Christiane, confused.

"Yes, your favorite color. I want to bring you something to make your morning easier."

Christiane paused and replied, "If I had to choose just one, it would be blue. Like the sky."

They reached Christiane's front door as Percival continued, "Sunday, at sunrise then. I have patrol duties for the next few nights, though, so I won't see you 'till that morning.

"I'll miss you," he said, reddening slightly. He took her hand, kissed it, and bid her good night. Turning swiftly, he strode off into the dark evening.


	2. Chapter 2 Gone Fishing

**A/N – Hello, my fearless readers! Thank you for reading chapter one and sticking with me for chapter two. Only twenty-eight more chapters to go, plus an epilogue. Are you up for it? I hope so. **

**And just a note, this story is inspired by BBC/Shine's Merlin, but I take many liberties and have made changes. After all, it's going to be a different tale with Gwaine and King Arthur surviving, and that's what we want, isn't it? **

**Without further ado, welcome to chapter two. Christiane and Percival go fishing. And perhaps have some fantasies later on. Enjoy!**

Chapter 2 - Gone Fishing

The next several days passed in a blur of activity. Both Christiane and Percival were extremely busy with their respective jobs.

Percival had patrol duties in the forest which proved to be a bit unpredictable and resulted in a confrontation with some heavily-armed and aggressive smugglers.

In addition to coping with the typical daily stress related to his job, Percival continued to have trouble with Lady Elora. It seemed that the moment he returned to the castle, the young courtier was waiting around every corner in ambush for him; she leaned in too closely when asking questions, and allowed her touch on his arm to linger a moment too long. The woman had become a real nuisance, and Percival wished she'd simply leave him be.

Meanwhile, Christiane worked diligently at the tavern, dealing with the trivial tasks which were a part of being a barkeep; one evening she chased out three squealing pigs that had wandered in behind a patron. The young woman also had to fend off the overly-amorous attentions of a traveling merchant who dined in the establishment. This particular interaction resulted in Christiane dumping a large tankard of ale over the man's head.

By the time Sunday morning dawned, clear and cool, Percival and Christiane both looked forward to a leisurely morning of fishing, and an opportunity to relax away from the stresses of their everyday lives.

XXXX

Christiane heard Percival arrive at her cottage on his massive chestnut destrier and met him outside. As she advanced, he dismounted and laughed.

"What, exactly, is so funny?" she inquired, a touch of both humor and irritation in her tone.

"I don't think you've slept well. You look like a newborn babe!"

Christiane narrowed he eyes slightly and asked, "And what, precisely, does that mean?"

Immediately, Percival knew his joke had not gone over well. "Just that you look a little tired." With a slight wince, he added, "And a touch cranky."

"As you know," she huffed, "I keep later hours because of the tavern." Yet at the very end of her statement, she gave a small smile.

Percival slapped his palm against his forehead. "I never even thought of that! I'm so sorry. But I have something for you. Maybe this will help make amends." From his saddlebag he removed a small cloth bag and presented it to Christiane. "For you."

She examined the bag. "You're to open it and see what's inside," Percival prompted.

Christiane suddenly smiled brightly and removed the cloth in order to unveil her gift. What she found was something completely unexpected, showing Percival had put a great deal of thought into the present, and it brought tears to her eyes. It was a small sea-shell, a scallop, dyed blue, with a lovely ribbon threaded through the top.

Percival, unsure of what to make of her reaction, explained, "It's a necklace. Somewhat sky-blue. Or the closest I could get, anyway. It's to make up for me forcing you up so early to fish."

Of course, this wasn't at all the reason Percival had purchased the necklace. But it was a convenient excuse to provide her with a token of his affection.

"Percival, it's beautiful," she whispered, touched by his thoughtfulness. "Thank you so much."

Christiane rushed forward and hugged him. Percival was rather surprised by her enthusiastic reaction, and it took him a moment to hug her back.

"Where on earth did you get this?"

"One of Gwaine's many lady friends. She's really a lovely woman; Marsilia. She makes all types of jewelry. When she showed me this piece, I thought of you," he admitted shyly.

"That's very kind and generous. Will you tie it on for me?"

"Of course," Percival answered, and she turned her back to him, lifting the long, dark hair from off her neck. As he knotted the ribbon in place, Percival's lips itched to kiss that neck; the soft, creamy-white skin was so temptingly close. He could imagine pressing his lips against that curve just by her collar bone. But he wouldn't dare be so bold. Yet.

Shaking off this powerful mental image, Percival offered to help Christiane up onto his horse. Clearly, though, she wanted to pet the animal's muzzle and coo over him. His horse was a wonderfully loyal beast, but didn't always take to being petted by people with whom he was unfamiliar. Yet there Christiane was, rubbing his muzzle contentedly, while the beast nuzzled her happily.

"He is such a fine horse. Beautiful. What's his name?" she asked.

"It's Aethon. Greek for 'blaze,'" Percival explained.

"That name suits him well," Christiane commented, giving the horse a final pat.

Christiane and Percival mounted Aethon, secured her bag packed with fruit, cheese, and bread, and set off towards the fishing hole as the sun rose higher in the sky.

A short time later they'd arrived and unpacked. Christiane set up a comfortable blanket where they planned to have breakfast in a little while.

The pair walked through the damp grass to the water's edge as Percival explained some of the finer points of fishing, and told her how he thought they'd use a nettle-hemp line and hook instead of a spear.

"We'll save the spear fishing for next time," Christiane joked.

Percival cut up some old sausage for bait, as he thought that might be preferable to having Christiane place a worm on the hook.

For a time, they sat in companionable silence until Percival inquired, "Christiane, can I ask you a personal question? Why you're not married yet? I'd think a beautiful, smart woman like you would have suitors at your door constantly."

Christiane chuckled and shook her head. "No, not really. Most men are put off by the incessant book-reading. The men I've met, like Sir Aled, desire marriage simply because they want a woman to take care of them and bear their children, nothing else. I want to do those things, but I also want to be able to read, learn, and work as a healer. I don't feel as if my sole purpose in life is to produce sons."

Percival made a mental note to hit Sir Aled particularly hard with the quarterstaff the next time they sparred.

"And men don't approve? Of your reading and wanting to be a healer?"

"Not everyone's quite as progressive as you, Percival," she said and winked. "And what about you? Do you want marriage? Children?"

"I do," he answered. "I don't know if I'll be that lucky, but I hope so. When the Dorocha[1] overtook our lands a while back, three small children were nearly attacked. I grabbed them up and ran with all three little ones in my arms until we reached their family. I hadn't thought much about children until that moment, but when I saw the relief and love in their parents' eyes, I knew I wanted that for myself, too. One day." His words tapered off, and he spent a few moments fussing with his fishing line.

Christiane was deeply touched by his story and felt the need to inform him, "Percival, you may not believe this, but women talk about you all of the time in the tavern. I hear them."

He replied, "None have caught my eye." _Except you,_ he thought.

The conversation took a more serious turn.

"Let me ask you something else. What if you had children and you had only daughters?"

"If I did," Percival replied, "I'm sure they'd be the loveliest, smartest girls in all of Camelot."

"And what about sons to carry on your name? If you didn't have them?"

He answered honestly. "I know some men are desperate for sons. But I'll tell you that to be blessed with healthy children is enough for me.

"I think most of the men I know feel the same, like Gwaine and Leon. Why all of these questions?" he asked with a slight smile.

Christiane quickly responded with, "Oh, just wondering!"

"Can I ask you a question?" Percival asked, switching the focus of the conversation back toward her.

"Certainly."

"Let's say you were married, and your husband was gravely injured. Say, he lost a limb or was crippled...something like that. Would you leave him?"

Christiane looked at him with shock. "Of course not! I know that my husband will be the love of my life, and I wouldn't leave no matter what. How could I abandon someone I love?"

Christiane pressed on with a new line of inquiry. "What if you were to get married and your wife couldn't bear children? Would you...set her aside and remarry?" She asked this while looking away from him.

"No, of course not. I'd only marry for love, and I can't imagine dismissing someone because she can't carry children. There are plenty of little ones out there who need homes, as I did. One can always raise them as their own."

Christiane felt immense relief at this comment. Of course, she had no idea if she could bear children or not, but for some odd reason, it was important to her to know how Percival felt about this topic. She suddenly felt embarrassed and foolish. Why had she asked such serious questions?

After a brief break for breakfast, they resumed fishing. Though there hadn't been so much as a small nibble all morning, suddenly Christiane's line bobbed violently in the water; a fish was clearly hooked, and a substantially-sized one at that.

Percival placed down his line and went to help bring her catch to the shore. It was a huge trout, wriggling and fighting. Percival grabbed the fish and placed it on the ground, holding it still with his boot. "Now, you're going to take out the hook," he told Christiane.

"No!" she shrieked. "I'll hurt it!"

Percival chuckled. "Just grab the hook firmly and wiggle it out. Then toss him in the bucket. Go on…you can do it."

Christiane bent down to work the hook free. Once the metal popped out of its mouth, she then grabbed the fish solidly with both hands, screaming with excitement, tossing it into the bucket with a satisfying "plunk."

"I did it!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms open, pulling Percival into a firm hug, which he returned.

She was elated and breathless. As she pulled back slightly from the hug, Percival decided that this was his moment. He took Christiane's face in his hands, gently, tilted his head slightly, and pressed his lips to hers, just briefly. He stepped back for a beat, his hands still holding her face.

Christiane, her eyes closed, felt the searing brand of his kiss linger on her lips; she'd never felt anything like that before. She melted into his arms feeling almost weightless. She thought it might seem silly, or trite to others, but in that one moment, she knew she loved Percival, and that notion terrified her. She hardly knew him!

Deep within his heart, Percival experienced a similar revelation, though he would never admit it. Certainly not yet. He could picture Gwaine laughing him out of the armory the next time he saw him if he told his friend he was in love.

Although the kiss had been brief, it was special and powerful. It was a kiss that changed everything.

Percival covered Christiane's mouth with his once again, then deepened the kiss. He brushed his tongue lightly against her lower lip, and she parted her lips slightly to encourage more. It felt incredible and she never wanted it to end.

After several minutes of exploring each other's mouths, bodies pressed close together, Percival stopped and planted a gentle peck on Christiane's brow, and leaned his forehead against hers. Ever the gentleman, he asked, "Was this okay?"

Christine laughed quietly. "Yes, Percival, this is okay. Thank you for asking."

"I just want to be sure," he said. Then he paused and realized that he needed an excuse to move off into the woods to calm himself before the hard ridge in his trousers became obvious.

"Nature calls. I'll be back in a moment." The knight turned and strode away, thinking of ugly things: Gwaine falling down drunk. Olga, the baker's hairy wart. That helped cool his lust, and he was soon ready to return. As he did so, Percival noted the position of the sun in the sky and saw that it was later than he realized, and time to return to Camelot.

The two mounted Aethon and left for home.

As they neared Christiane's cottage, Percival explained that he had to leave on a mission with Arthur, their much-loved young king, and would return in a week.

"There have been reports of Morgana sighted with a large number of soldiers near Essetir," he said, "and we're going to scout the area. Word has it that she's more determined than ever to see Camelot destroyed."

Morgana was King Arthur's half-sister, a sorceress, user of dark magic, and evil High Priestess, who had reigned with terror over the people of Camelot in the past. It was well-known she coveted the kingdom and throne for herself.

Finally reaching Christiane's home, she and Percival dismounted. The knight then inquired if she would be willing to accompany him on a picnic the following week, once he'd returned to Camelot.

"I would love to," she replied, smiling with enthusiasm. "I'll bring the mead."

"I'll bring the food." Percival concluded.

Christiane collected her belongings and Percival placed a feather-light kiss on her lips. Aware that her father might be lurking behind the windows of the modest cottage, he restrained himself, picturing a wildly-enraged older man storming outside with a shovel in hand, ready and willing to smack the knight over the head.

"Next week, then," Christiane said. "And Percival? Please take care. I mean it."

XXXX

Percival, Gwaine, Leon, and two dozen other knights made camp for the evening on the way to Essetir. As usual, after the necessary sword-sharpening and weapon-checking, the talk turned to women. As was also typical, Gwaine shared a variety of off-color stories about his numerous dalliances.

"The only thing I've yet to achieve is two women in my bed at once." Gwaine leaned back against a tree, his hands behind his head, resting against his thick, shoulder-length, brown hair.

"Before I die, or get married, whichever comes first, I definitely want to experience that, my friends. I already know what I'd do," he continued. "I'd set one on my face and the other on my cock. And when they'd had their fill, I'd switch them around."

Nearly all the men shouted their approval, then discussed what they would do with two women at once. The stories were quite detailed and colorful.

However, as usual, Leon didn't participate in the discussion. As knight commander, he felt it was his duty to set a positive example, one that did not include meticulous descriptions of sexual activity. But, observing him carefully, Gwaine thought he saw the corner of the man's mouth turn upward slightly. After all, Leon knew the men needed to have a little fun now and then.

Percival silently thought to himself it was probably enough of a challenge to keep one woman satisfied in bed, let alone two.

As he pondered, he could vividly imagine Christiane in various positions, her luscious body on top of him, and the thought made him ache with need. He didn't need or want two women. Just one. The one who had filled his dreams for the past several weeks. He was swiftly brought back to reality by Gwaine's bawdy comments, which were suddenly directed toward him.

"So, Percival. How are things with Christiane? Did you convince her to share your bed yet?" Gwaine challenged, loudly enough for everyone to hear. The other knights hooted and hollered, eagerly awaiting the answer.

"If I did, you certainly wouldn't be the first to know," Percival countered, more sternly than usual.

Gwaine stared at him for a moment, thoughtful. "I say no. Because if you had got your hands on that beauty, and I mean really got your hands on her, you wouldn't be able to keep it to yourself. I'll bet she'd be a real little fox in bed!"

With all of his fellow knights staring at him, awaiting a response, Percival sighed. He didn't want there to be the slightest doubt in anyone's mind about Christiane's proper behavior, so he admitted, "You're right Gwaine. I haven't."

Gales of laughter erupted, along with jibes of, "Poor Percival, the virgin," and, "I hope she goes easy on you when the time comes," followed by, "If you're not man enough, I'll have a go!"

Though the comments were meant as harmless chaff, Gwaine noted the way Percival's jaw clenched as the large knight glared at the dirt floor of the forest, scraping it absently with his belt-knife. Gwaine moved a little closer to ensure privacy for his next words; he didn't want anyone else to hear what he was about to ask.

"Damn, you're in love with her?"

Gwaine was genuinely concerned about Percival's feelings. While he enjoyed a good joke as well as the next man, he had no interest in truly upsetting his best friend.

Percival shrugged noncommittally; that was the best Gwaine was going to get out of him. For now.

XXXX

The knights' first full day in Essetir was uneventful. This was surprising, given that the entire kingdom was plagued by mercenaries and bandits, even under the rule of the new king. During the last twenty-four hours, there hadn't been so much as a small skirmish, let alone a full-out ambush, which was a relief, but still, the men felt edgy.

Night crept in, cloudy and brisk. They chose a camping spot that was more hospitable than most in the area, with heavy tree cover and some rocky outcroppings for shelter. It was late, and after the usual routine of imbibing and storytelling, with the exception of the men standing guard, most were fast asleep. Except Percival.

He lay, wide awake, thinking of Christiane. She was on his mind and in his heart every moment. He cautioned himself to be careful, knowing that such a persistent distraction could get him killed, and he needed to remain alert and present at all times.

_How do they do it?_ Percival wondered. He knew a good number of his fellow knights were married. Did they think about their wives all of the time? Did the aching and wanting grow less over the months and years? He didn't think so. Not for him, at least. He chastised himself for thinking about the word "wife." After all, he and Christiane had shared only one kiss. Two, he supposed, if one were to count the brief peck he gave her when he saw her home after their fishing trip.

Maybe she wasn't all that impressed with him. She could be bored, just passing the time until someone better came along, someone less-huge with a far safer occupation. _No,_ he thought. _It's just my shyness and insecurity talking._

He wished he could wake Gwaine to discuss this, but he had the feeling unless he wanted it announced all over Camelot that he was an "emotional girl," he should probably keep these thoughts to himself.

Percival continued to toss and turn on his thin bedroll. He wondered if it was always this uncomfortable sleeping on the hard ground, or if he just happened to notice it more tonight because he was already mildly distressed.

Gwaine slept nearby, and Percival thought he heard his friend mumble, "Oh, yes, beautiful…."

He smiled to himself. Good old Gwaine, he'd probably never change. Maybe it was easier just going from woman to woman without any complicated emotional entanglements.

Then Percival recalled the many nights when he'd heard women screaming and throwing things at Gwaine in his chambers once they'd discovered he wasn't a one-woman kind of man. In his heart, Percival knew that wasn't the type of life he wanted for himself.

The large knight allowed his mind to drift as he tried unsuccessfully to will himself to sleep. Instead of sleep he had a persistent vision of Christiane running through his head; her sweet, full lips and that lush, desirable body. Normally, when he touched himself, he envisioned somewhat faceless, nameless women. But now, one particular woman invaded his every thought. A part of him felt guilty touching himself while thinking of Christiane, worried that she would somehow be able to see his thoughts when they next met. But he knew that was just absurd.

He found that he just couldn't stop thinking of her. Percival could easily imagine what she looked like underneath her dress. She didn't dress very provocatively, like some women he knew, but the suggestive hints sometimes drove him mad with want. When she leaned over in the tavern, he could see just a trace of her cleavage, promising firm, full breasts. The morning they'd been fishing, she'd bent to retrieve some extra bait and Percival couldn't help but admire that round, broad arse of hers. And Lord help him, he simply couldn't help but fantasize about tearing that dress off her beautiful frame and having his way with her.

These thoughts were simply too much. He couldn't shake the idea of carrying her to his bed, stripping her naked, and finding pleasure in every inch of her enticing body. In vivid detail, he envisioned the overwhelming sensations as he buried himself inside her, drowning in her alluring scent. Allowing his imagination to take over, the knight could almost hear her crying out with pleasure, calling his name and begging for more. Knowing it was a terrible idea, he still couldn't resist unlacing the front of his trousers to grasp his erection, stroking it, even with so many men close by. After a surprisingly brief interval, he bit his lip sharply as he came, stifling a moan as he did so.

As he recuperated from his clandestine activity, Percival couldn't help wondering if Christiane ever touched herself. And if she did, did she think of him? Did women even do that sort of thing? Naturally, asking Gwaine about such matters was completely out of the question.

Of course, at that very instant, Gwaine stood abruptly, mumbling "I have to take a piss."

He looked over before staggering off into the darkness and saw Percival was still awake. "What are you doing up?"

"What?" Percival asked, pretending as if he'd just woken. "Oh, I had a dream."

"Yeah, I'll bet you did," Gwaine taunted. "One with dark brown hair and a sweet arse, I'm sure."

Percival growled and tossed a handful of grass at his friend.

XXXX

On the second night of Percival's absence, late in the evening, Christiane lay in her bed in the cottage's comfortable loft, thinking of him. Her father had left the city on an overnight trip to obtain a large quantity of pickled mussels and oysters. These were always popular fare at the tavern and the nearest source was a half-day's travel away, so she had use of the home herself. She loved her father, but sometimes it was nice to be alone with her own thoughts.

First and foremost, she thought of Percival's safety. This was a new sensation, being terribly concerned for someone else's well-being. None of her family members or friends had particularly dangerous occupations, although life in Camelot could be unpredictable for anyone.

She fumbled with her pillow and sighed, trying to reassure herself. He was well-trained, a knight of Camelot, and was much better able to defend himself than others. Then again, it also meant that he was more likely to find trouble. Or, trouble could easily find him. However, Percival was exceptionally large and strong. She imagined he could crush most men in hand-to-hand combat. That idea seemed so at odds with her memory of his gentle but eager kiss and touches just a few days ago. How could a man be such a fierce warrior on one hand, yet so kind and tender with her? She fingered the necklace he'd given her, and no answer came.

Suddenly, feeling nervous and insecure, a part of her wondered if he really wanted to be with her, a tavern owner's daughter. She was very inexperienced in these matters and knew she needed some sound counsel. Carina had much more experience with men; perhaps she'd approach her friend for advice. She'd be able to help!

After all, Christiane was a maiden. Maintaining her virginity until marriage was important to her. She knew many women her age didn't care so much, but she did. It was something special that she wanted to save as a gift for her future husband. Few people understood her conviction, but that's how she felt, although Christiane had no problem with other women making different choices for themselves. She strongly believed that women should be permitted to make their own decisions and have a say in their futures, an idea that was somewhat radical, and not widely accepted.

And she wasn't a nun, after all. She'd kissed a couple of boys, and ad even let one reach into her dress and touch her breast briefly. But when they discovered she wasn't willing to have sex with them, they tended to lose interest relatively quickly. She wondered if Percival would do the same. He seemed different, though, and she hoped he wouldn't follow the pattern of the usual men she knew.

She squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to purge thoughts of Percival from her mind, but to no avail. Her imagination proceeded to provide a very full and detailed scene. Christiane pictured the man completely undressed. She had, after all, seen his muscular arms and could imagine how the rest of his body might look; he was probably rock-hard, covered with thick muscle all over, and Christiane sucked in her gut a bit.

She knew it was shameless, but she decided to indulge, and deliberately created a mental vision of Percival making love to her in the forest, passionately and unrestrained.

In this image, he lay her reverently on their picnic blanket and touched her everywhere, running his hands up and down her entire body. She shivered, and imagined how it might feel as his substantial weight settled over her, pushing her hips into the forest floor as he filled her gently but determinedly. Christiane imagined him moving in and out of her, faster and faster, the strokes increasing in speed along with their enthusiasm. Of course in this scenario, he'd also proclaim his undying love for her, and she felt a little foolish.

Even so, she allowed her hands to drift down between her legs and rub her sensitive spot over and over, all the while imagining it was his touch instead. Christiane finally tensed, breath held momentarily, before panting out Percival's name as she reached her climax.

After taking several long deep breaths, she felt embarrassed. What would Percival think of her engaging in such activity?

She didn't know how she'd ever look him in the eye again.

[1] The dorocha are shadow people, or, spirits of the dead. To mortals, their touch is fatal.


	3. Chapter 3 Return from Mission

Chapter 3 - Return from Mission

**A/N – Readers! You're still with me? I'm humbled and delighted. Things heated up a little bit chapter two, didn't they? And how can you not adore Gwaine? He's just so much fun to write about.**

**In chapter three, Percival returns from his mission, and Carina gives Christiane "a lesson."**

**Also, Percival discusses the loss of his family (sad face!) and has a bit of trouble with Will, Christiane's father. **

**Enjoy! And as always, feel free to contact me or comment with any questions, concerns, etc. Happy reading.**

**Wait...one last note! If you're reading this story as each chapter is posted, there may be a little delay before chapter four goes up. My lovely beta reader is traveling. **

The following week, as Christiane mixed dough at the tavern, Carina burst in excitedly, her brown eyes shining and curly blonde hair wild. She yelled out to her friend, "The knights are back from their mission!"

It seemed as if Carina always had information about the knights, probably because she had her eye on Sir Michael who was one of the younger men.

Christiane looked up at her father, eagerly, hoping to be dismissed. He rolled his eyes and said grumpily, "Oh, just go. I'll pop the bread into the oven. Go on, now!" Will's demeanor was often gruff, but Christiane knew it was an act; the man absolutely adored his children.

Christiane and Carina raced along the dusty path toward the castle on the bright early-summer afternoon. As they jogged at a brisk pace, Christiane realized she'd never actually been inside of the castle, and wasn't sure that she'd be able to gain entry. She asked her breathless friend, "Carina, how are we supposed to get in?"

"Oh, just tell the guards you're here to see Sir Percival. They'll check you for weapons and that's about it. They'll let us in, trust me."

The duo approached the guard at the castle's main entryway. "Names?" he asked, and they provided them. "Do you have any weapons on your person?" They shook their heads vigorously. "And whom are you here to see?" They answered. The guard stepped aside and granted them entry.

Carina showed Christiane to the area of the castle that housed the knights' quarters and pointed out Percival's door. The more senior knights had private quarters, but the newer, younger men had to share chambers. Percival had his own quarters, but Michael was preparing to receive a new roommate shortly.

Carina pounded on Sir Michael's door. The man opened it and stepped forward quickly to embrace her.

Meanwhile, Christiane had gently tapped on Percival's chamber door. "Enter," he said. Christiane opened the door and poked her head inside cautiously.

"Hello. May I come in?" she asked softly, taking in Percival's sizable, shirtless body propped up in the bed, resting against several pillows. The man had a fresh bandage wrapped around his shoulder; she saw a small trace of blood beginning to show on the clean, white gauze.

She noticed in passing that his quarters were quite nice. The walls were decorated with scarlet banners bearing the golden Pendragon crest. Fine curtains hung in front of the large window by the bed. There was a sizable fireplace and an impressive bear rug was spread out in front of it. The dining table was neat and orderly, with a small stack of books on its edge.

Stepping further into the room, Christiane tried not to admire the grand bed too much. It was massive and adorned with scarlet hangings. It looked very comfortable; laden with thick bedding and plush pillows. Christiane swallowed, attempting to erase the image in her mind of joining Percival in that sumptuous bed.

"Please!" Percival exclaimed, beckoning as he sat more upright. "It's wonderful to see you. This bed is comfortable, but boring."

"Are you all right?" Christiane inquired, moving closer to the injured man. "What happened?"

Percival, sounding almost proud, told her, "This shoulder injury is from a crossbow bolt; my first one! And the rib problem is from Gwaine's fat elbow. In the midst of fighting off some bandits he backed into me. I'm not sure what hurts more," he said jokingly. "Can you believe it? All from an altercation that lasted for about two minutes."

Concern apparent, Christiane asked, "Are you in terrible pain?" her voice shaking slightly. She couldn't imagine how awful it must have been to get shot.

"No, it looks a lot worse than it is," the knight assured her. "A few days' rest, a bit of arnica, and I'll be fine, really. I'm just pretty tired right now. From the journey home."

Christiane straightened, preparing to make an exit. "I don't want to keep you from your rest."

"No, please stay. I'd enjoy your company for a while, even while I relax." Percival amended hopefully, "If you have the time, that is."

"I have plenty of time and I'd love to stay."

"Pull up a chair, then," Percival suggested.

And she did. She pulled a dining-table chair close to his bed and held his warm, strong hand in hers, settling in for a visit.

He told her a brief story about Gwaine's drunken escapade one night, where the inebriated knight threatened to fight a neighing horse which he'd mistaken for a person laughing at him. Christiane giggled at Percival's lively description of his friend's antics.

It seemed as if the storytelling took quite a bit out of him, and Percival's eyes soon began to droop. Christiane remained with him as he softly fell into slumber. She sat at his side quietly for an hour, caressing his hand with her thumb. She also took the opportunity to drink in the hardness of his broad chest dusted with light-colored hair, the flat plane of his stomach, and his massive, muscular arms. The reality displayed before her was even better than the images she'd conjured in her head.

Although Christiane knew it was rude and highly inappropriate, when Percival stirred and his bed sheets slipped slightly lower, she glanced at the thin strip of hair than ran from beneath his belly button downward, and thought about the temptation that lay just below. In her eyes, he was a beautiful creature, and she felt a sharp sting of insecurity, wondering if she measured up.

Once he'd fallen into a deeper slumber, Christiane rose quietly and carefully readjusted Percival's bed clothes. She located some parchment, a quill, and an inkwell, and left a short note telling him to sleep well, and that she would return for a visit tomorrow. She exited the room swiftly and silently.

Christiane walked home in the late afternoon sun, her mind occupied with thoughts of Percival, which was becoming increasingly typical these days. Even the early-summer breezes, filled with the scent of grass and warm hay, failed to distract her.

The young woman drew closer to home and noted that Carina sat in her favorite chair, in the front garden, which faced across the street towards Christiane and Will's home. Carina largely lived alone. Her mother had died when she was an infant, and her father, Reese, traded for a living. He was typically gone for many months at a time, and his current trade mission would keep him away from home for a year. Reese left her with plenty of gold, and Carina did well for herself by selling candles. Her best sellers were ones infused with the exotic oils her father brought back from distant lands. She often joked, "Another year of selling scented candles, and I'll never have to work again!"

Carina stood and flounced up to her friend. "Well? How'd everything go?"

"Fine. He's hurt, but he says he'll recover after a few days of rest. Mostly, he slept and I held his hand."

Carina looked perplexed. "That's all? You talked and he slept?"

"What else were we going to do? The man was shot and he's recovering!" she told her friend in an incredulous tone.

Carina gave an exasperated sigh and said, "Oh, Christiane, we need to have a LONG talk!"

"Why? What did you and Michael do?"

"Do you really want to know?" She asked, a slightly devious edge to her voice. "I don't want to hurt your virgin ears!"

Christiane considered the offer carefully; did she really want to know? In the past, she probably would have thought absolutely not. But now she was curious. She knew why she felt this need to know about her friend's romp, but she certainly wouldn't admit it aloud. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I do want to know. Every detail!"

Carina's eyes widened in surprise. "In that case, take a seat next to me and buckle your breeches!" she joked.

Carina was a good friend and a kind, fun person, full of life and enthusiasm. Her blonde, curly hair was always whipping about and her animated hands punctuated colorful stories. She rubbed her palms together in preparation for a good tale.

"As soon as I walked into Sir Michael's chambers, I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him, and I mean, kissed him! Fiercely, with lots of tongue. Then I inquired about his well-being."

"Perhaps the inquiring should have come first," Christiane suggested.

Carina waved off her sarcasm. "Then, I grabbed him again and nudged him toward the bed. I pushed him down firmly, unlaced his breeches and –"

Christiane's eyes grew large with disbelief. "You did WHAT?" She could hardly believe any woman would be so forward, even her bold friend, but at the same time was eager to hear more.

"We've done it before!" Carina insisted. "I don't want to bore you with the particulars, but I performed the most amazing fellatio on him. He was done in about a minute.

"Then he pulled me down, flipped me on my back on the bed, lifted my dress, and tore off my underclothes…."

"Wait, wait, just...wait. I don't know if I can hear any more of this. Where did you learn to do all of these things?" Christiane asked.

Carina shrugged. "I like to eavesdrop on anyone who's talking about sex. Don't you ever listen to talk at the tavern? You'd get an earful! But rather than harm your sensibilities, I will simply say that the man knows how to use his tongue. He's quite the expert."

Christiane's mouth dropped open. Of course she knew about sex, including oral sex, but the idea of someone putting their tongue…there...wasn't it embarrassing? When she paused and thought about Percival's tongue on her and what it might do, she considered that the experience might be worth the embarrassment.

Cheeks flushing a bit pink, she asked, "So, you, um, liked it, then?"

Laughing loudly, Carina replied, "'Like' would be a significant understatement! It's just incredible. You should get that Percival of yours to do it to you."

Now Christiane's face turned beet-red, because she could picture his head between her legs in vivid detail, his tongue working deftly against her soft flesh. But rather than try to explain once again her determination to save herself for marriage, and that oral sex could certainly lead to her losing her virginity, she half-heartedly answered, "Maybe one day."

Carina squealed and hugged her. "Oh, my little kitten, you're missing out. Come out to the garden. I'm going to give you a lesson."

Christiane didn't exactly like the sound of that, but she followed her friend. Carina moved towards the vegetable garden and picked two cucumbers, and Christiane figured out where this lesson was headed.

"Really, Carina? You're going to 'give me a lesson' right here in the garden, facing the road?" she protested.

Carina replied, "Of course not, silly! We're bringing them back inside. After all, if you want to receive, you need to know how to give!"

She winked and Christiane huffed an exaggerated sigh. She knew that when Carina was this determined, there was no stopping her. Christiane decided she would try to be a good pupil, as long as things didn't get out of hand. And honestly, she was quite curious.

Carina brandished a thick, vividly-green cucumber and instructed Christiane to hold it out toward her, horizontally. "Now let's say this was Percival's cock..."

"Carina!"

"All right, let's pretend it's a just a cock, then, attached to no man in particular. There, is that better?"

Christiane rolled her eyes and nodded, knowing that the blunt-talking Carina thought she was just being a prude.

"Moving along; watch what I'm doing with my hand." Carina grabbed the cucumber firmly and moved her hand up and down the length of it repeatedly. "Pretty easy, right?" she asked, not really waiting for an answer.

After ensuring that her friend was paying close attention, Carina continued. "Now here's how you use your mouth." Christiane was too stunned and fascinated to move. Carina licked the top of the cucumber before she ran her tongue expertly up and down each side, and then took it into her mouth and began rhythmically moving her mouth up and down the length. After she did this a few times, Carina opened her mouth wide and took a hefty bite out of the vegetable, which made them both laugh. "But don't do that. Your turn now!" she exclaimed excitedly as she munched.

"This is a terrible idea," Christiane moaned. "I have no idea what I'm doing and I'm going to look like a fool."

"Better to look like a fool with me than with Percival. I mean, whomever your future husband may be," Carina commented with wry grin. "Just go ahead and grasp it," the blonde-haired woman said as she held out the cucumber.

Summoning her courage, Christiane reached out. "Move your hand up and down firmly." She listened to Carina's instruction and did her best to imitate the actions from the earlier demonstration.

"Perfect, you're a natural!" Carina praised.

Christiane groaned at the statement.

"Now, time to use your mouth."

"I really think that's enough cucumber-wrangling for one day," Christiane insisted. "Plus, if he were this huge, I might die," she said, gesturing toward the vegetable.

"He might not be quite this large," Carina conceded, "but he's a big man and I'm sure he'll have the equipment to match."

Christiane sighed once more. "This is the first and last time I am ever doing this with you!" She carefully took the cucumber into her mouth. It was far too long to take in the whole thing, so she wrapped her hand around the rest.

"That is EXACTLY what you should do!" Carina cheered. "If he's too big to fit all of the way into your mouth, use your hand!"

"Okay, we're done," Christiane declared emphatically, twisting the cucumber from her friend's grip.

"Percival's going to be a lucky man one of these days," Carina teased, as Christiane tossed the green vegetable at her dear friend.

They both collapsed in hysterical laughter.

XXXX

The next afternoon Christiane returned to Percival's chambers, careful not to arrive too early in case he was still resting.

Of course, no matter how hard she willed away the thoughts, she couldn't stop thinking of Percival's head buried between her legs, or her mouth working his erection. Her heart was pounding rapidly just imagining it.

"This is ridiculous," she admonished herself quietly as she neared the castle.

She went through the same process as yesterday: announcing herself to the guard, proclaiming she had no weapons, and was then permitted entry. As she ascended the castle stairs, she had the wild thought, _What would Percival do if I pushed him into the bed and unlaced his trousers like Carina did to Sir Michael, and then..._ She shook off the images as she knocked on the chamber door, and tried hard not to think of cucumbers.

"Come," Percival answered her knock.

_Terrible word choice!_ Christiane said silently to herself.

She pushed open the heavy wooden door and entered. This time, Percival wore his tunic, which was both good and bad, and sat at his dining table with a book.

"You look better rested. How are you feeling?" Christiane greeted as she took a seat at the table.

"I _was_ feeling pretty good until Michael stopped by and regaled me with a long, colorful story of his afternoon tryst with Carina yesterday." Percival chuckled lightly. "He was quite descriptive, to say the least. I'm not sure I needed all of those details."

Christiane cringed slightly. The thought that he'd heard the same story she had made her cheeks flame red.

"Oh, that, well, yes," she stammered. "I heard something similar from Carina."

She then wondered how many women with whom Percival had shared such intimate activity, and began to feel quite irritable for some reason. Even angry. It was surely jealousy, but Christiane wasn't ready to admit that to herself yet.

Unaware of his guest's inner-turmoil the knight continued. "You should hear how the men carry on. I think a lot of it's fabricated to make them look good." He shrugged his shoulders. "I'm no expert, myself. But if I were, I wouldn't boast about it endlessly like they do."

Christiane was relieved to hear he wasn't an expert in these matters. Yet she had an inkling the man had at least a little experience.

She tried to change the subject to help dismiss the growing flame of jealousy igniting in her gut. She looked around the room and saw a chess board. "Do you play?" she asked, motioning toward the board.

"Not incredibly well, but I do."

"Are you up for a game?"

"Most definitely."

The two spent a pleasant couple of hours joking and laughing while playing chess, each managing to win once.

Eventually, Christiane had to leave for work at the tavern. As she gathered herself, Percival suddenly asked, "Would you like to accompany me to the swimming hole this weekend? This week's been warm and I thought you might enjoy a respite from the heat."

"I would love to," she replied, "but will you be recovered enough to swim by then?"

"I'd better be, because Gaius, the court physician, has released me to light patrol tomorrow," was the man's wry comment.

"Then I'll join you this weekend," Christiane confirmed as she reached for the door.

Percival stepped in front of her. "Wait just one moment," he said. "I know you need to leave, but…" Words failed him. Instead, he took her by the waist and drew her close to him, pressing his lips against hers. He kissed each corner of her mouth and then locked his lips with hers more forcefully.

Christiane found herself moaning softly.

Just like their first kiss, it was electric and passionate. His lips were soft and the gentle scratch of his unshaven jaw was simply delightful. He moved his hands slowly from her hips up along her ribs and down again. She hoped he'd touch her breasts, just for a moment, as they ached to feel his hands, but he didn't.

Somewhat discombobulated from his touch, Christiane collected her thoughts enough to recall that she was going to be late for work and had to excuse herself. She drew back slightly, saying, "I hate to go, but I must."

Percival held onto her tenderly for one more moment, delighting in her closeness and beauty, as well as the tantalizing scent of lavender on her pale skin.

Disengaging herself, Christiane leaned upward and pecked him on the cheek before departing.

Percival stood silently in the middle of the room for a moment and touched his face, the delicate feel of her lips still etched upon his skin.

XXXX

A few days later, it happened that Percival and Christiane had a few hours free during the afternoon, and decided to relax under a massive tree by the pond in the center of the Lower Town. The day was dreary and grey, but the two felt perfectly content in each other's company, despite the unfavorable weather.

While there was little foot traffic at the time, it was still a public place and anyone walking by could see them sitting together. Percival held Christiane's hand deliberately, wanting a somewhat-public proclamation that Christiane was his woman. He hoped that Sir Aled would saunter by so he could smile and wave at him. Or, punch him square in the jaw. That was immature, he realized, but the thought did make him feel better, nonetheless. Which was strange, because he'd never considered himself a jealous man before.

"Percival?" Christiane asked, forcing his mind back to the present. "Would you tell me about your family?"

This inquiry took him by surprise. He hardly ever spoke of his family. If people asked, Percival told them simply they were all killed, and then changed the subject. Even over a decade later, thinking of them could sometimes trigger feelings so strong, it physically pained him.

"What do you want to know?" he asked.

"Tell me your memories of them; the good ones," Christiane said with care and concern.

Percival hoped he would be able to relay those memories without becoming too choked up and emotional. He didn't want to appear foolish, or worse, weak. He began his story.

"My parents married when my mother was sixteen and Father was twenty. I came along exactly nine months later, right before Mum's seventeenth birthday.

"My mother was an expert gardener, but Father used to say that she just enjoyed kicking around in the mud, which was also true. I remember her always seeming to be covered in dirt from the garden of our small farm. Father always said it was 'adorable.' I recall being very young, sitting in her lap and munching on radishes in the garden while she pulled weeds."

Christiane was charmed by Percival's description of his parents, so in love and full of life. She remained silent and hoped he'd tell her more. After a short pause, he took a breath and continued. "I was close to both of my parents. Father was a carpenter, quite skilled, but he was also handy with the sword and taught me the basics.

"Mother was a great storyteller. She used to regale my sister Deryn and me with the most elaborate tales of lords and ladies, kings and queens, knights and sorcerers. We would run around the house making a huge racket acting out Mum's stories.

"We were a happy family; all very close, and I remember my parents were so incredibly in love."

"It sounds it," Christiane said quietly.

"I haven't spoken of the day they died, ever," Percival solemnly admitted.

"You don't have to," Christiane said. "But if you want to, you can trust me, Percival. I won't ever tell anyone."

He kissed her hand. "I know you wouldn't." Percival continued, but he looked across the pond as he spoke, recalling images from long ago.

"On the day they were killed, Mum had sent me on an errand into the village. She'd decided that she was going to make an apple pie, and asked me to get more flour. I'd paid the miller, and had begun dragging the heavy sacks back home.

"I was only a few minutes from home when I heard the hoof beats of the raiding party. I remember people crying and screaming in terror as Cenred's men used their horses to trample our friends and neighbors. The soldiers just cut them down with their swords, and set random houses on fire. Women, children, it didn't matter; no one was immune. We'd been victims of Cenred's displays of force before, but nothing like this."

Percival took a deep breath before going on. "I could see the raiders were headed in the direction of our house; I dropped the bags and ran as fast as I could. I had no idea how I would stop them, but I thought, in my nine-year-old mind, that I'd find a way."

As she listened, Christiane could imagine the determination of the too-young child, as he raced desperately to save his family, and it pained her heart.

"As I approached house, Owen grabbed me around the waist and lifted me up. He was trying to cover my eyes as he told me, 'They're dead, son. You'll come and live with me now.' I managed to peek through his fingers and saw our front door had been smashed open. Someone had taken the time to cover my family's bodies with a sheet, but I saw my sister's little hand poking out from beneath, and it was covered in blood."

Christiane wept in earnest. She couldn't imagine going through something so horrifying.

Percival gathered her into his arms and finished his story. "For months afterwards, I had terrible nightmares of my family being killed. I'm surprised Owen didn't toss me out, the way I sobbed and screamed all night long. Thank God he was so patient and kind. The only way I survived through that time was by imagining my mother there with me, hugging me close. Some nights, it felt as if she really was."

Silence fell, until Percival sighed deeply trying to keep his emotions in check. "That's all, I suppose," he concluded with a slight shrug.

Unsure of what to do or say, Christiane simply tipped her head upward and kissed Percival gently. She held his face in her hands and said, "You're so brave."

Percival desperately needed to change the subject. He was grateful that he'd finally unburdened himself of those horrible memories, but he couldn't continue discussing it without breaking down. "Can we talk about something else?" he asked. "Like, your freckles?"

Understanding his need to change the subject, Christiane questioned, "My freckles? I don't think anyone's ever commented on my freckles." She reached for her nose. "There aren't too many of them, are there?"

"No. Just a few on your nose and cheeks. I find them charming," he said as he kissed the bridge of her nose and each cheek. He looked into her blue eyes and added, "You're so beautiful."

Christiane felt embarrassed. She wasn't used to being complimented by men unless they were at the tavern and somewhat drunk. She dismissed his flattery with, "Please, I'm too chubby."

"What?" Percival nearly shouted. "I prefer a woman with some substance. I find skinny women very unappealing. You're shapely and gorgeous. Ridiculously sexy." Christiane's eyes widened slightly.

"I'm sorry, I've gone too far," he concluded apologetically.

"That's very nice of you, it's just that I don't see it."

"I wish you could see yourself as I see you," Percival told her.

He leaned in and gave her a slow, tender kiss, and he hoped the whole word saw it.

A light drizzle began. "Damn, I have to head back to the tavern," Christine told him. "I'll see you this weekend, then?"

"Yes. This weekend."

XXXX

Percival found himself unable to wait for the weekend. The day before their planned swimming excursion, he had a longer evening break than expected. Not taking the time to change from his chainmail and cape, the knight walked down to the tavern to see if Christiane might be there and to say a quick hello. In truth, he just couldn't seem to get enough of her.

He entered The Rising Sun only to find that Christiane didn't appear to be working. When he inquired with the cook, Terric, if she might be in the kitchen, the cook told Percival she'd left the tavern about an hour prior. The knight briefly wondered if it was appropriate to stop by her home unannounced, but he decided to take a chance anyway.

He knocked on the cottage door and Christiane opened it. She looked surprised, but smiled. She was a little sweaty with several locks of hair escaping from her hair pins, yet Percival thought she looked more pleasing than ever.

He loved the fact she was a natural beauty and wore no makeup. Many of the ladies at court tended to overdo the rouge and powder, which he thought made them look very fake and fragile, much like painted dolls.

"A word of advice from a knight – always ask who it is before opening the door," Percival said with a grin.

"You know, I should!" Christiane agreed. "Come in, come in," she offered. "I'm just chopping and preparing some herbs. Forgive the smell; some of them are quite pungent."

"Are you sure it's all right to come in?" Percival asked, taking a quick look around the tidy cottage from his position in the doorway.

"If you can't allow a knight of Camelot safely into your home, that's a problem," she teased as she gestured for him to enter.

Christiane offered Percival a seat while she finished chopping and cleaned up her herb table a bit. Percival explained he couldn't stay long, and that she shouldn't stop what she was doing on his account. She told him the work would keep, and asked in jest if he'd like to try a tincture of mountain balm as she leaned over to scrub the table.

Percival's wayward thought, _No, but I'd like to try you,_ popped into his mind before he was even conscious of it.

Christiane turned around to rinse her cloth to find Percival was directly behind her. He had a difficult time being forward with women, but she made it far too easy for him. The man simply couldn't resist that tempting body of hers tonight. He grabbed her by the hips and claimed her mouth. She accepted his advances eagerly, the sexual tension between them crackling.

They shared a long, glorious, passionate kiss. Christiane's hands locked behind Percival's neck while his own rested on her waist. Percival was dangerously aroused, and muttered softly into her ear, "You taste and smell so sweet. It's killing me."

Christiane answered by pressing her body against his and kissing him back fervently; he was fairly certain his thick chainmail would cover any hint of his aching erection.

He didn't know what came over him, but Percival suddenly lifted her, cupping her fine arse, and placed her on the edge of the table. He pulled her body against his and moved his lips down to her delicate jaw line, then neck, heading in the direction of her breasts. Christiane sighed softly and encouraged his movement by resting her hands lightly on the back of his head as his lips moved slowly downward.

Panting a little, Christiane reflected that she loved being near Percival, and having him touch her. The knight radiated strength and power, yet shyness and kindness, too. He was irresistible.

At this precise moment, the door burst open with a crash, slamming back against the wall and bouncing slightly. Before either of the couple could so much as think, Will had stormed over to the table, grabbed Percival by the ear, and dragged him from the cottage amidst Christiane's explanations and vehement protests.

Percival, knowing the enraged father was justified in his actions, didn't resist. He just hoped Will wouldn't twist his ear right off.

As Christiane's father lugged the massive knight into the middle of the street, he shouted, "You ask permission to see my daughter, understand? Permission!"

At this time of the evening, right before supper, there were a good ten or more onlookers in the road, whispering and pointing at the loud altercation.

His ear still solidly in Will's grip, Percival said, "I'm very sorry, sir, I'll…"

"Go home, you horny little bastard and come back when you can behave like a proper gentleman! And when you can keep you damn hands to yourself!" Will exclaimed at top-volume. He finally released Percival's ear and gave him a solid shove in the direction of the castle.

Percival stumbled slightly, then straightened himself, feeling thoroughly humiliated. Adjusting his chainmail and cape and mustering the last bit of pride he had, he turned toward an equally-embarrassed Christiane (who stood several feet away), executed a polite bow, and said, "Good night, Christiane."

"Good night, Percival," she called back to him as he departed.


	4. Chapter 4 The Swimming Hole

**A/N - Thank you so much for sticking with me! I hope you enjoyed chapter three. Carina's really something else, isn't she? I just love her spirit.**

**During chapter three, we learned a bit about Percival's past the young knight finally makes a move...only to be tossed out into the street by Will!**

**Fair warning, during this chapter, things heat up quite a bit and there's partial nudity. As always, please feel free to comment or PM me with any questions. Onward!**

Chapter 4 - The Swimming Hole

The following day, on an unseasonably hot weekend afternoon, Percival arrived at Christiane's home with Aethon and a picnic basket. Christiane's father leaned against the short fence in his front yard and eyed Percival warily.

Percival dismounted and approached Will carefully. The knight knew this was a risk after yesterday's display, but it was one he was willing to take. Most men wouldn't have dared to return so soon after having been assaulted and told-off by a woman's father.

"Good afternoon, sir," began Percival. "I was wondering if I might have your permission to bring Christiane to the swimming hole today," he said formally. "As you can see, I've brought lunch and will make sure she's returned safely by evening time."

Will continued to eye Percival up-and-down suspiciously. After the previous day's incident, where the towering knight had his hands all over Christiane, the tavern owner wasn't thrilled with the idea that the man would see his daughter soaked to the skin in a flimsy shift at the swimming hole.

"Persistent fellow, aren't you?" Will grumbled as he continued to lean against the fence casually. "And you assure me your intentions are completely honorable?" he asked testily.

"Yes, sir, I promise."

Will stared at the young knight for a moment, attempting to look as intimidating as possible. But it was difficult, considering Percival was over a head taller than he. "Fine, then," Will barked. "But make sure she's back, happy, and in one piece, well before nightfall."

Will then motioned for Percival to come closer, and the wary knight complied. The gruff older man grabbed the younger one solidly by the back of his skull, forced his head downward, and growled through clenched teeth, "Untouched! Do you understand me? _Untouched_."

In other words, still a virgin.

"Of course," answered Percival, his head still firmly in Will's grasp. "You have my word."

Will released the knight's head reluctantly. The two men then clasped forearms in agreement, and Percival massaged the back of his scalp where Will had grabbed him.

"Good," replied Will. "Time for me to go sharpen my sword. It's quite the fine weapon," the man bellowed as he walked back toward his home. "Able to slice through chainmail like warm butter."

Christiane, who had been observing the interaction from her small herb garden, was somewhat embarrassed by this exchange, but felt Percival handled her father's needling quite well.

"Father," Christiane called after Will, "is it necessary to threaten and manhandle Percival every time you see him?"

"For the time being!" the man called out as he marched into the cottage and slammed the door behind him.

XXXX

As Percival and Christiane rode to their destination, the young woman apologized for her father's acerbic behavior. Percival assured her he understood completely, and was in no way scared-off by Will. After all, the man was simply trying to protect his daughter, as a good father should. The knight wished he could tell Will he loved Christiane and would never hurt or dishonor her, but at this point, he figured that such a declaration would probably earn him a sword in the gut.

The two arrived at the swimming hole a short time later. It wasn't actually a small swimming hole, but a section of the substantial Glas Lake [2], where people chose to swim because the area was surrounded by short, soft grass and was dotted with large yew trees offering shade. It was the perfect location for relaxing and drying off after a refreshing dip in the deep, brisk water. People had referred to the spot as "the swimming hole" for as long as anyone could remember, and the name stuck.

The day was beautiful and cloudless, yet sultry. The couple set up their blanket beneath a tall yew, sat down and sipped some mead, and munched happily on herbed cold chicken, cheese, and parsnip fritters.

However, the temperature continued to rise and the bugs became increasingly aggressive; both Percival and his companion were perspiring and swatting at annoying insects. Christiane mentioned if they didn't get into the water soon, the bugs would have _them _for lunch.

"I brought an old shift to wear swimming. Would you mind turning your back while I change over there?" Christiane gestured toward a copse of trees.

Percival jumped up awkwardly and turned his back. "Of course! I didn't think that far ahead myself. I'll just take off my tunic so I have something dry when we're done."

He removed his shirt with his back toward Christiane. She was already mostly secluded behind the trees, but she just couldn't help stealing a look at his broad, magnificently well-muscled back. She shook her head at her boldness and decided she'd better change quickly before the knight caught her in the act of stealing glances at his partially-dressed body.

All the while, Percival wanted to do nothing more than take a quick peek while Christiane changed, but he promised himself he wouldn't do so. After all, wasn't interested in being slapped across the face and having the object of his affection ride off on his horse in a fit of fury. And since Aethon seemed to like the woman, the animal would probably allow it, the darn fickle beast.

Christiane emerged from behind the trees suddenly, shouting, "I'll race you!" and took off for the water at top-speed. She was about ten feet closer to the lake's edge, so it wasn't really a fair race, but it was all in good fun. She leapt into the blissfully-cool lake water first, but Percival was right on her heels. Christiane slipped under the surface of the water for a moment and surfaced quickly, now thoroughly soaked from head to toe.

Percival noticed she still wore her undergarments beneath her shift. He couldn't see _everything_ now that she was wet, but he saw enough: the swell of her hips, the outline of her breasts, the curve of her arse. The thin gown clung to every contour of her body seductively, suggestively. Her eyes were bright with happiness, and her hair was drenched and wild. To him, she looked like a goddess. Or a temptress. Possibly both.

"What is it?" Christiane asked nervously. "Is there something on my face?" The way her swimming partner stared at her with wide eyes, she assumed a fat leech had attached itself to her cheek.

Percival willed himself to look away; he didn't realize he'd been staring wide-eyed and slack-jawed until that moment. "No, I just had no idea you were so quick on your feet!" he fibbed.

"Let's see if you're as fast in the water as you are on land. I'll race you to that rock!" He gestured to the large sunning-rock a few dozen yards away. "Go!"

Christiane was a good swimmer, but Percival had a significant height advantage and made it to the rock first, but gallantly helped Christiane onto the sun-warmed surface. Though the day was exceedingly warm, the breeze out on the lake was cool, and she shivered. They lay on their backs allowing the bright sun to dry them.

"If you're cold, you can lean against me," Percival offered. "To warm up a bit," he added quickly. He lifted up his arm to allow Christiane room to lean against him.

She took Percival up on his offer and rested her head on his shoulder. She then truly realized how solid and well-sculpted his body was. His arms, chest, and abdomen were pure, rock-like muscle, his skin warm and smooth. He smelled of an intoxicating blend of wood smoke and grass.

Christiane resting against Percival was pure heaven in his mind. Her soft, smooth skin felt like cool silk against his body, which had grown inexplicably hot the moment she'd drawn closer. The young woman's damp hair smelled of sweet sunshine and her skin like lavender. Percival was unable stop himself from tipping her chin upward and kissing her, first the top lip, then the bottom. He gently probed her lips open with his tongue and found her eager and willing to return his kiss with equal fervor and passion.

Somehow, in the midst of kissing, Percival found himself on top of his beautiful companion, his fingers tangled in her wet hair with his arousal straining against the cloth of his trousers. He knew she was seconds away from feeling his erection and was unsure what to do, so, he elected to escape.

"I'll race you to shore!" he jumped up and yelled, as he dove suddenly off the rock and into the water.

Christiane was perplexed as to why her companion leapt up so rapidly and had begun swimming, but she chose to follow. She reached the grassy shore fairly quickly, but realized he wasn't there. After a few moments, she began to panic that he had sunk in the lake. "Percival!" She screamed, frantic, diving underwater to search for him.

As soon as he realized Christiane was genuinely upset, he stood up from his hiding place behind the water reeds. "Hey, I'm fine!" he called out when Christiane surfaced.

"Damn it! You scared me to death!" she cursed as she tried to storm out of the water.

But Percival was too fast for her. He reached her side in an instant and took her wrist firmly in his hand to halt her departure. "I really didn't mean to scare you. I'm sorry; I was just playing around. Please don't be angry," he apologized sincerely.

She looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes and admonished the man. "You did scare me and it wasn't funny! Pretending to drown isn't a joke!"

He knew she was right and recognized that he'd behaved like a bit of a fool. Percival lowered his head with remorse, but still held Christiane's wrist gently.

"I know. I don't know what came over me. Let me make amends," Percival said as he pulled her toward him, lifting Christiane up slightly out of the water. Her legs wrapped around his waist and he kissed her as he had never kissed another. As they continued to embrace and kiss with abandon, Percival eventually let his lips fall to Christiane's neck and she sighed. Her body shifted slightly lower. There was no hiding it or mistaking it this time; she felt his hardness touch her.

Christiane paused for a moment and took stock of her current situation. After all, she was a maiden, and planned to remain that way for the time being. However, she felt a powerful desire for Percival, a ridiculously strong physical attraction. That, and when they'd first kissed during their fishing trip, if she was being truthful, she realized she loved him then, but had no idea if he felt the same. Regardless, she knew she wanted to see him, touch him, no matter how wrong it was according to common belief and social custom. For once, she decided to be a little reckless.

Christiane asked, blushing fiercely, "Do you think I could take a quick look?" boldly motioning toward the crotch of his pants.

"What?!" Percival barked out. He knew they were now approaching dangerous territory. Such activity could cause things to spiral quickly and irrevocably out of control.

Totally conflicted, he hadn't the slightest idea how to proceed. Very recently, something in their relationship had changed, or, at least he thought it had. In all honesty, Percival loved Christiane from the first time they took "the long way home." He felt an aching, burning desire to be with this woman, but also knew he _had_ to behave honorably if he was to eventually have her in his bed. As his wife. Preferably sooner than later. That's what he wanted; he was absolutely certain.

Christiane's cheeks blazed crimson at his response. She released herself from Percival's embrace and stood upright in the water. The young woman assumed she was being rejected and was painfully mortified.

"I-I'm sorry," Christiane stammered. "That was so bold. And rude. Ridiculous, really. I've just...I haven't seen one before." She babbled on. "Well, my father, accidentally when he was changing, but that was just scary, and nothing I would want to see again!"

When she received no response, Christiane explained herself further. "I'm a maiden, actually, and I want to remain one for my husband. Though you probably think terribly of me right now."

Percival simply stood there with his mouth agape, though he was secretly thrilled and relieved to hear she was still a maiden.

Christiane had no idea what to do with Percival standing there in stunned silence, so she carried on and blurted out, "I'll show _you_ something first, then you can show me in return...and we'll be even!"

Before Percival could close his mouth, Christiane pulled the ribbons at the top of her wet shift and lowered the garment to her shoulders, exposing her breasts.

The knight tried not to sway. Her breasts weren't huge, but they were beautiful, round and firm, and they belonged to her. He yearned to hold them in his hands, to touch them and kiss them. But he was able to do nothing more than pant a strangled, "Ah…"

Still having no idea what Percival was thinking, Christiane drew near him again slowly, as they were still in nearly waist-deep water. She took his hands and placed them on her breasts, her own hands trembling terribly with nervousness.

Percival couldn't stifle his groan. And he couldn't help kissing her deeply as he caressed her half-naked body. Though he _knew_ this had to stop. He loved this woman and he would not tarnish her reputation.

Christiane had never felt anything like this before. She experienced an intense yearning for this large knight, something white-hot and foreign; every bit of her prickled with need.

Although Percival burned with arousal, a tiny part of him recognized he must protect Christiane's honor. Respect her father's demands. But he simply couldn't help himself, and the two continued to kiss passionately until Percival boldly touched his lips to Christiane's neck, her collarbone, then lower. His lips paused at the necklace he had given her; he was pleased she wore it every day.

Some faraway part of him hoped she'd slap him and force him come to his senses, but she didn't. Percival slowly moved his lips down to the tops of Christiane's breasts and kissed them gently. He carefully kissed the sides of each, and then went ahead and kissed her hard, tight nipple. She gasped, and he wasn't sure if he should stop. Instead, he drew the aroused nipple into his mouth, licking it gently. My God, her body felt amazing! He then moved to the other breast to do the same, Christiane gasping and sighing the entire time, her fingers running through his short hair. He desperately wanted to touch her between her legs, to feel the most intimate part of her, but Percival stepped back, knowing he had to stop before he'd gone too far.

Christiane took a moment to breathe deeply, clear her head, and hastily laced up the top of her shift. Though she knew this was a risky move, she stepped toward Percival again and began to unlace his breeches. She'd held up her part of the bargain and she wanted him to hold up his!

He said nothing but closed his eyes and inhaled slowly. He thought to himself, _Fine, she can look for a moment, and then I put an end to this! _He kept repeating in his mind, _I will protect her honor, I will protect her honor..._

He opened his eyes, and his breeches were unlaced, but his drawers were stuck to his body like glue. Percival knew he would have to lower them, and he did so.

Christiane tried not to react. As she'd admitted, she'd seen only one man naked, and hoped never to see that man undressed again. But just as Carina had warned, the knight's length (and girth) would likely match Percival's substantial build, and they did. There was no way to put it politely, but he was huge. The mere thought of something that large inside of her made her mouth go dry.

Although she knew she was being shameless and wanton, Christiane _had_ to touch his erection, just for a moment. She recalled her cucumber-lesson with Carina, and she reached out and grasped the base of his cock firmly. It was warm and smooth, yet incredibly rigid, like nothing she'd ever felt before. Christiane moved her hand quickly from the base to the tip, once, twice, and then again, relishing in the feel and weight of Percival's erection in her hand. On the third stroke, she rubbed her thumb gently over the tip, utterly mesmerized by his body. And she kept going.

Of course, Carina had explained the ins-and-outs of the male orgasm in striking detail, and Christiane found herself wondering what it would be like and if she could give Percival one right then. But she doubted it, as she didn't feel very confident in her abilities. Plus, this was the first time she'd ever touched a man in this way.

Percival's knees nearly buckled from the touch and he had to steady himself by holding onto the woman's shoulders. He realized he had to put an end to this madness, but felt frozen. The knight almost burst with need and knew with one more stroke of her hand, another brush of her thumb, he was done for; he would certainly find his release right then and there. Then what would she think of him? But he wanted her so badly. It took every bit of his resolve to stop himself from carrying her from the water, depositing her on the blanket, forcing her legs open, and entering her madly and passionately. Desire like he'd never felt before coursed through his veins.

However, at that very instant, the couple heard a loud crash in the woods and separated abruptly. It was just a deer, but it was enough to bring them back to reality. Christiane dropped her hand. Percival wrestled up his drawers and trousers and laced them clumsily as they both trod out the water.

Once they'd reached their blanket and dry clothing, Percival noticed Christiane was tearful.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" he asked.

"I'm really ashamed of my behavior," Christiane told Percival as she stood on the blanket. "I've never acted like that and hope you don't think less of me," she said. "I'm...this is not how I usually behave. I've _never, ever_ done such a thing. I've had only a few brief kisses, if you can believe that. I'm sorry."

Percival shook his head and answered, "Of course I don't think less of you. I think you're a smart and wonderful woman. Please don't be ashamed; I can't bear the thought of it."

As they dried off on their blanket beneath the yew, Christiane tried to get a hold of herself and asked, "Percival? Can I ask you a bit of a personal question?"

"Of course. Anything."

"How many women...have you enjoyed the company of many women?" she asked, nervous about his answer.

Percival exhaled slowly and audibly. He had never told anyone else this story, as it was quite embarrassing, but he knew it was time to share the tale. "Let's have a seat on the blanket and dry off. I'll tell you the short version."

Now Christiane was worried. _How bad could this be?_ she thought. _Ten women? Dozens!?_ Of course, she'd heard stories about the many sexual conquests of knights and felt concerned. Upset. Hotly jealous, really.

Percival began to tell his story. "Three years ago, I trained in a small village in Mercia. There was a woman there, a bit older, twenty five, as I came to find out. She paid me a lot of attention and was very complimentary. That's something I rarely experienced and I was flattered.

"One night, she invited me to a barn and said she wanted to show me her much-loved horse, so I agreed to meet her. When I arrived, she began to cry that her betrothed had left her, and said she'd never had the comfort of a good man and wanted to lose her maidenhood to someone like me."

Percival paused, concerned about how Christiane might feel hearing the sordid details of his experience. "Tell me if this is too much and I'll stop."

"No, please, I want to hear," said Christiane, nervous and waiting for more.

The knight continued his embarrassing tale. "Being seventeen and not very worldly, I fell for it." Percival winced slightly before disclosing, "I didn't know much, but after a moment or two of, um, activity, I realized she wasn't a virgin.

"A few seconds later, her betrothed burst into the barn with a wicked-looking pitchfork." Percival shook his head with shame at the memory before continuing. "I stood there, half-dressed, fighting off the man, trying to explain the situation, but my attacker wasn't interesting in hearing me. And the woman laughed hysterically the whole time I tried to defend myself.

"Eventually, I managed to sidestep the man and get away, running through the village without trousers, for all to see. Apparently, this was a bit of a game the woman played in order to make her fiancé jealous."

A regretful Percival ended the story with, "I was humiliated and lost my virginity stupidly, and the event lasted about ten seconds until I was almost skewered by a pitchfork. I've been with no one else since."

Reddening, he offered, "And obviously, I've never been with a woman to, uh, completion. I'm sorry," the knight apologized, "this is very embarrassing for me to talk about.: He added, "Anyway, that's why I have some difficulty trusting women."

Christiane leaned across the blanket and hugged Percival. "That sounds absolutely awful, and I am so sorry," she stated with genuine empathy. The young woman thought about how terrible it must have been to be deceived in such a way.

Worried about what Christiane must think, Percival insisted, "You must think me to be a terrible fool after that story. I've never told another soul."

"Not at all," she responded. "I think you're honest and kind and got yourself into a bad position is all." Christiane then inquired, "And she was really the only one?"

"Other than a couple of kisses after that, there's really nothing else to tell."

Percival didn't want Christiane to get the wrong idea about him; he was typically painfully shy and awkward around women and had far less experience that most of his comrades. But last year, when he and Gwaine had been sent off to locate two young courtiers who'd going missing in the woods, they'd found the ladies, and the women had been too exhausted to return to the castle right then. The group made camp in the woods for the night. Judging by the sounds coming from Gwaine's bedroll, Gwaine and one of the young women had quite the time.

The other girl had lain close to Percival and asked him questions about what life was like as a knight. She kissed him, out of nowhere, and he kissed her back. But in the morning, she pretended as if she'd never known him, and that was the end of it.

The last kiss Percival had shared with a woman was about six months prior. While he was tending to his horse at the castle stables, the plump and pretty traveling merchant's daughter, Beth, leaned on the stable fence and spoke with the knight, inquiring about Aethon and life in Camelot in general. The merchant's daughter visited the stables each afternoon for a couple of days and finally asked Percival if he'd take her for a ride and he complied. When the ride concluded, the pretty young woman with wavy brown hair asked if the knight would kiss her, which he also did. The kiss wasn't intense; it was simply brief and sweet.

Before she left Camelot the following day, Beth told Percival she hoped to see him again the next time she passed through. He hadn't seen her since.

But Percival felt nothing for those women like he felt for Christiane. He was completely and utterly in love with the tavern owner's daughter.

Suddenly remembering the time, the slightly-distressed knight smiled weakly at Christiane. "We should probably head back, before your _father_ skewers me with a pitchfork."

They packed up their belongings, mounted the horse, and started for home.

The couple rode back to Camelot quietly, lost in their own thoughts. Percival knew what he wanted, without a shred of doubt. He loved Christiane and planned to propose marriage. First, though, he had to face Will and ask for his blessing. And if the man approved, Percival would invite Christiane to the annual Knight's Banquet, being held in two days, where he would propose.

Though the young knight knew he would ask for Christiane's hand even if her father _didn't_ give his blessing.

He needed the ring. And the nerve. There was precious little time.

* * *

><p>[2] The word "glas" means "blue" in Welsh. This is a lake of my own creation.<p> 


	5. Chapter 5 An Unusually Quiet Evening

**A/N - I hope you enjoyed chapter four! It's certainly racier than the previous chapters. From this point onward, there will be a great deal of said raciness. **

**In chapter four, we witnessed Christiane totally throwing caution to the wind, and we discovered that our beloved Percival is NOT a virgin. Although the man is still relatively shy when it comes to women (except Christiane, apparently). And the poor knight's really trying to preserve Christiane's honor.**

**In chapter five, things continue to become more serious for our couple. However, I would like to warn you - there is an attempted sexual assault in this chapter. Please skip one if this will be upsetting to you.**

**Onward! And thank you for your likes and follows thus far. I appreciate them so, so much. **

Chapter 5 - An Unusually Quiet Evening

If Percival thought approaching Christiane for the first time was nerve-wracking, the mere notion of going to Will to ask (or beg) for his daughter's hand in marriage made the knight physically ill. In his mind's eye, he could envision Will gleefully sharpening his sword, laughing at him raucously, or attacking him, and he wasn't exactly sure which one was scariest. As it was, the protective father had yelled at Percival, twisted his ear, embarrassed him publicly, and threatened him with a sword. Those encounters didn't help put the knight's mind at ease.

That morning during training, he was so distracted by anxiety and the accompanying nausea that one of the perspective knights was able to land a solid mace blow to Percival's gut, which only made matters worse. Percival clutched his stomach, acknowledging if Gwaine and the others had any idea that he was really so nervous and shy in his heart, they would blast him off the training field with laughter. He knew his comrades loved him like a brother, but brothers can be merciless with their taunting.

Once the training exercises had concluded, and before he lost his nerve, Percival changed out of his sweaty clothing, bathed, shaved, and held a cold cloth against the angry red welt on his abdomen. He knew Christiane was working at the tavern and was fairly certain Will was home; this was the right time to approach the man.

The anxious knight strode out of the castle into the warm afternoon, feigning confidence, and started straight for Will's front door. Percival knocked the moment he arrived; he didn't want to stand there endlessly, becoming more nervous and tongue-tied with each passing second. He knew he needed to get in there and say his piece. Immediately.

After a heartbeat or two, Will opened the cottage door. He took one look at Percival's sweaty brow and pasty complexion, rolled his eyes, and boomed, "Oh, dear God, I know what you're doing here. Come in, come in."

Surprised, the nervous knight asked, "You do?"

"Christ, man, I wasn't born yesterday. You want to ask for my daughter's hand in marriage; I see how you two goggle at each other. Would you just get inside the damn house?"

Percival ducked his head and entered.

"You're right, sir. I love Christiane more than anything." Percival dropped to his knees and bowed his head. "I humbly ask you for your daughter's hand in marriage. I promise you, I will love her, care for her, and treasure her all the days of my life."

Will shook with laughter. "Get up will you? For God's sake, I'm not the Pope!"

The young knight rose reluctantly. He'd rather have remained on his knees than to look Will in the eye.

"You're a good man, Percival," Will said as he clapped the anxious knight on the shoulder. "I'd be proud to call you a son. Just remember you are lucky to have my daughter." Percival nodded his head in agreement and relief.

"And when do you plan on asking for her hand?" Will inquired.

"I'm going to ask her at the Knight's Banquet," Percival responded. "It's being held the day after tomorrow."

"Good. Fine. You have my blessing, God's blessing and all of that. I like you," Will admitted cautiously, yet took a step closer. "But be warned, I don't care if you're the size of a mountain; if you hurt my little girl in any way, I'll find you and cut your bollocks off. That's a promise."

Percival nodded and grinned. "As you should. I'd expect nothing less. But I will never give you reason to do so."

The relieved young man left directly from Will's home for the tavern. He entered the establishment and saw Christiane carefully wiping down some tables. It was late afternoon, and a slow time for business. He walked up behind her and tapped her shoulder gently.

"Hello, you," she turned around and said with a smile. "Here for a visit?"

"Actually, I have some very important business here. With you."

Christiane inquired, "And what might that be?"

Percival withdrew a small bunch of fragrant blue wildflowers he'd hidden behind his back. He offered them to Christiane and formally asked, "I was wondering if you would do me the honor of attending the Knight's Banquet with me in two days."

"Truly?" she asked with excitement. "I've never been to such an event. I would love to go with you."

The Knight's Banquet, held annually, was a major, lavish event. It was the time of year when the greatest number of men were bestowed knighthood. It was also an occasion when the existing knights received commendations for exceptional bravery, service anniversaries were recognized, and so forth.

He kissed her cheek. "I'm glad. The banquet starts just after sunset, so I'll send a guard down to accompany you up to the castle. Unfortunately, I can't come myself, because I have to be involved in some preparations."

"Please, that's not necessary at all," said Christiane. "I would really rather just walk up to the castle on my own."

Hesitantly, the knight told her, "I'd feel much better sending a guard down for you, but if you insist, I suppose I will have to accept it."

"Good! I'll see you then, right at sundown." She brushed her lips lightly against his.

Percival turned and left the tavern with a wide grin on his face. He just knew it was going to be an amazing night and she'd say yes. She simply had to.

Next on Percival's agenda was locating Marsilia, Gwaine's sometimes-woman, to obtain a betrothal ring.

XXXX

Christiane was incredibly excited about attending the banquet with Percival; she had never attended a formal event at the castle. She owned one elegant gown, for which her father had traded a year prior and thankfully, it still fit. The dress was a royal blue gown with some silver thread accenting the sleeves, skirt, and bodice.

Carina had arrived at Christiane's cottage to help her dress and use the hot tongs[2] to give her friend's normally pin-straight hair some curl. Using the tongs was generally a long, drawn-out, and occasionally painful event, but Carina was happy to help.

After wrestling with the tongs for quite some time, Carina finally said, "Oh, look at you, my friend," admiring her handiwork. "You're a beauty. Have a wonderful night, will you?"

With a solid hug, Christiane told her, "I will, I promise. And thank you for being my friend."

As she headed for the door, Carina yelled after her dolled-up friend, "Don't forget the cucumber!" Christiane couldn't help but laugh.

Once outside, Christiane observed it was an unusually quiet night in Camelot, as it was dark, raining, and windy. She didn't want to arrive to the event soaked and disheveled, so she hurried along as fast as she could, traveling cloak pulled securely around her, heedless of her surroundings.

As she closed in on the stone-paved walkway at the edge of the castle paths, which was a few hundred yards away from the castle itself, a fat, filthy, drunken man stumbled up to her. She assumed he was very drunk, as it was raining and chilly, but he wore no cloak and didn't seem to care. That, and he looked and smelled as if he hadn't washed in months, his greying, unkempt hair lank and greasy.

He slurred, "Hey there, you sweet young thing. Ready for some fun tonight?" He moved his hips back-and-forth obscenely. And he was close enough that Christiane could smell the sour stench of rotten teeth and alcohol on his breath.

She responded harshly, "I'm on my way to meet my betrothed. Good night. Leave me be." The woman was used to dealing with the occasional belligerent drunk at the tavern, and wasn't incredibly worried about him.

"Not so fast," replied the thug, grabbing her arm forcefully, digging his fingers into her flesh.

Christiane tried unsuccessfully to pull away. She started to feel quite nervous, as her gut told her this wasn't an ordinary sot who'd listen to a sharp scolding and simply wander away. She countered with, "My betrothed will be along shortly."

"Ha! I doubt it," the drunkard replied while maintaining a solid grip on her arm. "No one seems to be out and about in this weather besides me and you."

The man's other arm shot out; he grabbed Christiane's hair and tried to kiss her, tongue and all. She kicked at him and then landed a solid punch square in his nose. He proceeded to grab her by the throat, throw her to the ground, kick her sharply in the ribs, and successfully dragged her into the nearby alleyway.

It all happened so fast and Christiane was so dazed, she forgot to scream. On a normal night, many of Camelot's citizens would have been at her side immediately to assist. But the foul weather ensured everyone was settled around their hearths.

Once in the alley, the reeking drunkard heaved her upright by the neck and punched her. He pummeled her face: her jaw, nose, eye, then the other eye. Christiane was barely conscious when he ripped her bodice open and sank his teeth into her chest. She finally screamed and raked her nails across the thug's face. He punched her again, splitting her lip, and she was knocked unconscious.

When she fell backward onto the muddy earth, he rolled her over onto her stomach and cut off her undergarments with a knife. The man sliced her upper thigh carelessly as he did so.

Next, he fumbled with his belt and breeches and lowered them to his ankles. At that moment, the man was violently lifted off his feet by none other than a rain-soaked Percival, who'd heard a scream from the alley. The knight had become worried when Christiane was late, because she was never tardy without good reason. When he realized it was his beloved Christiane on the ground, Percival lifted the man by his neck and smashed him into the alley wall full-force, twice. The attacker was dead within seconds.

The towering knight allowed the dead man crumple to the ground and immediately removed his scarlet cape to cover the still-unconscious and exposed Christiane. She was drenched, caked in mud, and her face was scarcely recognizable from the beating. He noticed blood running down her leg, and assumed the worst. God help him, she had been raped. The knight, trembling with nerves, carefully lifted her into his arms set out for the castle at full-speed to find Gaius, the elderly court physician. At the sound of the commotion, people had started to come out of their homes to offer aid, but Percival was already out of sight.

He arrived at the castle minutes later, and kicked at Gaius's door, yelling, "Gaius! Open up, please!"

Gaius appeared at the doorway, looking disheveled. He took one brief glance at Christiane's beaten and dirty body and immediately flung the door wide open, ready and in physician-mode. His quarters doubled as his residence and the castle infirmary.

Percival entered the spacious but cluttered chamber and gingerly placed Christiane down on the wooden examination table. She began to rouse.

"What happened?" she asked, still quite dazed.

As he maintained a firm grip on her cold hand, Percival explained, "You were attacked, love."

Christiane closed her eyes and a tear slipped out. "I remember now."

"I found you unconscious in the alley," he noted. "I was just coming to check on you and I...took care of the man who did this to you."

Christiane's hands flew up to her neck, which felt bare. "My necklace," she sobbed.

Percival shook his head, acknowledging her precious gift had been lost.

Gaius gently touched the concerned knight on the shoulder and said, "Percival, I need to examine Christiane with the midwife, due to the nature of the attack. Would you mind fetching Mary and then waiting outside for a few moments?"

"Of course," responded Percival, and he rushed from the room. Gwaine stood outside of Gaius's chambers and started jogging alongside friend.

"What in the devil's name happened?" Gwaine asked, looking concerned. Percival explained breathlessly as they ran for the midwife's home. Mary was in her late-forties, very experienced, and well-trusted by all.

A few minutes later, Percival and Gwaine returned with the woman, and the men remained outside in the corridor while the midwife conducted the examination. Gwaine grasped his friend's large shoulder in support as they waited. Percival cracked his knuckles and began to pace with worry.

Mary emerged from Gaius's chamber and stepped into the hallway. The midwife informed the two concerned men, "She's pretty well bruised and battered, but you got there in time, Percival. She wasn't raped," she assured him. "The blood on her leg is from a laceration. It seems as if the man tried to remove her undergarments with a knife and cut her. And it appears as if she put up a good fight. You can go on in now."

"Thank you so much, Mary," said Percival with a great sigh of relief.

Mary patted his shoulder, compassion apparent in her eyes, and left. Gwaine departed, too.

Percival entered Gaius's quarters and approached Christiane, who was still on the examination table. But she appeared more comfortable with a soft pillow behind her head and a light blanket covering her.

Gaius informed Percival, "Due to the fact she suffered a blow to the head, well, several blows, I'd like her to remain here overnight so I can observe her. Then, a week off of work until the head pain is gone."

"I'll stay the night with her, Gaius," the knight insisted, as he pulled up a chair close to Christiane's side and took her hand. "If she has any trouble, I'll wake you immediately."

Gaius looked to the injured woman for approval and she nodded. The physician then retired to his bed in the corner behind a privacy screen.

Now alone with his injured love, Percival spoke. "Christiane, no matter what happened, or happens, I have to tell you something." Gently squeezing her still-cold hand, he insisted, "I need you to know that I love you."

Christiane began to cry softly. "I thought that if he'd, you know, raped me, you wouldn't want me because I was damaged," she whispered.

Percival drew her into a gentle hug and said, "Never. I love you too much. Nothing could change the way I feel about you."

"I love you, too, Percival," Christiane told him.

"All right, enough talking!" commanded Gaius from behind the screen. "Time for the poor young woman to REST."

Percival wanted to tell Christiane he'd intended to ask her to marry him that evening, that he desired nothing more in this world than to make her his wife. Instead, he sat at her side for the entire night while she slept, fingering the betrothal ring he carried with him everywhere now. Her ring. He hoped.

XXXX

The next morning, Gaius examined Christiane thoroughly and informed her she could return home, with strict instructions to take it easy for the next week.

"Fresh air is fine," instructed Gaius, "but no working, straining, or running about!"

The physician suddenly added, "And Christiane, Percival tells me that you're interested in the healing profession. Next month, I will be in the position to take on an apprentice, and I would be happy to have you."

"Truly?" Christiane asked with surprise.

"Truly," Gaius replied. "Merlin's nearly done with his training and is quite occupied attending to the king, given Morgana's recent attacks close to Camelot." With a slight scowl, he added, "And quite frankly, I could really use the help."

Christiane flung her arms around the elderly physician. "I'll be here, I can promise you that! You won't be sorry."

Gaius, not having been embraced by an enthusiastic woman in quite some time, awkwardly patted Christiane's back before she departed.

XXXX

Christiane spent the next several days resting, reading, and going for short strolls with Percival when he wasn't working. She felt much better physically; the swelling from her injuries had gone down significantly and her bruises faded to a yellowish hue. And Will was so grateful Percival had rescued his daughter in time, he actually hugged the young man.

Each morning during her recovery, Christiane found wildflowers on her doorstep which lifted her spirits. When she asked Percival who might have placed them there, he shrugged and gave a small, crooked smile.

A week after the attack, Percival suggested he and Christiane take a leisurely ride to the swimming hole in order to relax and cool off. The summer heat had arrived early that year, thick and humid. The recovering young woman smiled. "You just want to see me wet in my white shift, don't you?"

He chuckled and commented, "I hadn't thought of that, but that's certainly a nice benefit." In a more serious tone, he urged, "But I want you taking it easy still."

"Fine," Christiane replied with feigned annoyance. "I promise to just splash around and not exert myself. I could use the distraction anyway."

After the short ride to the lake in mid-morning warmth, Percival watered Aethon and spread a blanket under the shade of a large oak tree. Meanwhile, Christiane stripped off everything except her shift, and her companion observed she wore nothing underneath it. Not a single stitch.

"Oh dear God!" Percival muttered under his breath. Not to be outdone, he then stripped down to his drawers. They both splashed into the water at the same time.

After several minutes of floating around and paddling, Christiane glided over to Percival, and said, "I'm tired. Hold onto me, will you?"

Percival wasn't sure how he'd control himself with Christiane's practically-naked body so close to his. But he replied, "Sure," and took her into his arms, observing he could see right through her wet, white garment as she floated on her back with his arms supporting her.

With every single enticing bit of her on display, he simply couldn't resist. He leaned down and kissed her with everything he had, damn the consequences, and was instantly terrifically aroused. Christiane positioned herself against his hardness and it was just about more than he could tolerate.

Finally, after a long while of tasting her beautiful lips and neck, Percival knew he had put an end to this before it went too far. How had they arrived at this place again? He wanted this woman more than anything, but he promised himself he'd make sure she was still a maiden on their wedding night. But this proved to be increasingly more challenging with each passing day.

Trying to be the voice of reason, Percival gasped, "Christiane, we can't do this."

She looked a bit deflated, but admitted, "I know...I know. You're right." She then disclosed, "This is somewhat embarrassing, but I find you hard to resist."

"You're more beautiful and passionate than I can take. Trust me, this is killing me," Percival confessed. "But I have plans for us, and I know it's important for you to stay a maiden."

Christiane inquired dubiously, "What types of plans are these?"

"Never you mind," he teased. "You'll see soon."

Christiane asked, suddenly and boldly, "Do you think we can…do something else?" their blanket beneath the tree

"I promise," she whispered in his ear, trailing her finger down his bare chest, "that I will still be a maiden by day's end. But I have to touch you."

In seconds, Percival found himself flat on his back on the wool blanket. His alluring companion pulled down his drawers and took his impressive length into her hand, stroking it forcefully and vigorously, loving how it felt and the way he responded to her touch. While she stroked him, Christiane peppered his neck and chest with light kisses.

Percival could no longer resist. "Oh, God help me! This is so wrong." With a great sigh he finally conceded, "Take everything off."

Christiane complied, stripping out of her soaked shift. They were both completely naked, so Percival reached for his bag positioned a foot or so away, and fumbled for another light blanket for cover, just in case someone were to come upon them.

Now slightly covered, Christiane, straddling Percival, stroked him harder and faster. The aroused knight reached between her legs and found that she was incredibly wet and warm. It was the first time he'd touched her in such a way and he was completely thrilled to be doing so, as evidenced by his loud sigh.

He took his finger and caressed her center gently and rhythmically, while touching her breasts with his other hand, gently squeezing, then licking her firm nipples. She was so responsive to his touch, so passionate, it excited him more than anything. He'd certainly never brought a woman to orgasm before, but within minutes, it appeared as if hers was imminent, and he was dying to see it and feel it.

Christiane had touched herself before, but it never felt like this. Percival's hand moving against her felt so exquisite, it was almost painful, but not quite. She pressed herself against his fingers harder, wanting more, needing it.

As Percival moved his mouth against Christiane's breast, she was on the verge of begging him to be inside of her, but before long, both of them were moaning and gasping. As soon as Christiane called out, "Oh, God...God," and he started to feel the contractions of her orgasm, Percival lost control and climaxed with a long groan.

They both lay there, completely spent.

"Wow," Christiane whispered. Though she'd turned a bit red and felt slightly disconcerted, somewhat pleased with herself but a little embarrassed by her own enthusiastic cries. "That was something!"

Percival tried to catch his breath. "It sure was. You're making things very, very hard on me," he panted.

Exhausted from the easy swimming, followed by more vigorous activity, Christiane fell asleep against Percival's chest for a time. He lay there on the blanket and simply stroked her hair, enamored with the feel of her soft, naked body against his. Now blissfully content, the man couldn't recall a moment when he'd ever been happier.

Percival eventually woke his companion gently with a soft kiss on the top of her head. The sun was nearing its zenith, and it was time for the couple to leave. The knight had to return to the castle and ready himself for afternoon and evening patrol, so they departed.

As they reached Christiane's home, Percival asked, "Will you come to my chambers tomorrow night? There's something we need to talk about."

Christiane gave him a concerned look. "Should I be worried?"

"Not at all," Percival answered kindly before he gave her a long, slow kiss.

Christiane dismounted and entered her home, wondering what the following night would bring.

* * *

><p>[2] Hot tongs were the curling irons of medieval times. The metal was placed in the fire, heated, and then the hair was curled around it. Over and over again. It was a long, tedious, and often painful process.<p> 


	6. Chapter 6 A Sudden Change

**A/N - Quite a bit happened during chapter five! I enjoyed writing the scene between Percival and Will when Percival asks for Christiane's hand. ****"****Get up will you? For God's sake, I'm not the Pope!" Sigh...sometimes I make myself laugh.**

**Our poor Christiane! But she's such a strong woman. However, it's a good thing Percival arrived just in time. **

**And clearly, Percival and Christiane are in love (and lust, as we saw). Also, isn't that great that Christiane's going to have the opportunity to train as a healer?**

**We're on to chapter six now. Something VERY significant happens in this chapter that changes the course of the story. Actually, a few game-changers occur!**

**Be ready for an extra hot-and-heavy scene in this chapter. And try not to cry. Onward!**

Chapter 6 - A Sudden Change

So much changed during the course of a mere day.

Unfortunately, the frightening rumors circulating Camelot regarding Morgana amassing a huge army were true. During that afternoon, King Arthur's scouts and fifty of his knights, led by Sir Leon, reported they were forced to retreat from their northern garrison at Stawell because Morgana's men were too numerous and she had used sorcery against Camelot's soldiers.

During the dangerous and terrifying retreat home, where several more of King Arthur's knights had been brutally slaughtered, the scouts counted that the High Priestess's soldiers outnumbered their own by five-to-one, and that was a conservative estimate.

Acknowledging the grave news, that evening, Arthur called his most trusted knights and confidantes to his private chambers, which included Percival, Gwaine, Leon, Merlin, and Gaius.

The king revealed they must ride out the next morning at first light to face the wicked Morgana at Camlann in the mountains of the north; Arthur refused to allow her massive and ruthless army to march on Camelot and put all of its citizens at risk.

"This will be a dangerous battle," Arthur declared plainly and honestly. "Many will lose their lives, as we're incredibly outnumbered. But I do believe with our strength, strategy, and determination, we can defeat Morgana once and for all and bring lasting peace to the realm."

He raised his sword and concluded with, "For the love of Camelot!" and his knights saluted the kingdom with him.

XXXX

After finishing her work at the tavern and washing up, Christiane donned her traveling cloak and walked to the castle at comfortable pace. She was permitted entry and met Percival in his quarters shortly thereafter. And immediately, she could see he was highly distressed.

Pacing, Percival explained the dire situation to Christiane the moment she entered his room. "At first light, we're to leave for Camlann to battle Morgana and her army. We're grossly outnumbered. There's a very real chance few of us will return," he explained matter-of-factly.

Christiane felt as if the earth had shifted violently beneath her feet. Worried she might vomit and pass out, she steadied herself by placing a hand on Percival's dining table The young woman understood that the life of a knight was dangerous, yet the reality of actually losing Percival made her physically sick. But Christiane knew she had to be strong. The last thing she wanted to do was send her love off to battle with an aching heart.

She gazed up into his grey eyes and took his face into her hands. "I love you Percival. So much. More than anything in this world. And I know you will come back to me."

Percival gathered her into his arms and declared, "You're my heart and soul, Christiane. I promise, I will love you with everything I have, for all of my days. However many or few they may be."

He then reached into his pocket, withdrew the betrothal ring, and dropped to one knee. "I had planned on doing this at the banquet, just so you know," Percival explained with a small smile. The knight cleared his throat and said, "Christiane, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife? You are the most precious thing in the world, and I promise to treasure you now and always. My heart is yours and will remain so forever."

Christiane clasped her hands over her mouth. She had dreamed of this moment and it was finally coming true. Immediately, she replied, "Yes! I would love to be your wife, Percival."

He stood and carefully placed the ring upon her finger, a delicate silver band, inlaid with small, sky-blue crystals.

With tears in her eyes, Christiane admired the ring for a brief moment, then informed her new fiancé, "If you're to leave at first light, and there's even a small possibility you won't return, I want you to make love to me. Now. I don't care about propriety and bedding customs. I love you and _will_ marry you, and that's all that counts. In my heart, you're already my husband."

Percival disagreed. "What if you were to conceive my child tonight, I didn't return, and we hadn't married? You'd live in shame and I couldn't bear that." He paused thoughtfully for a moment. "But wait...would you marry me tonight? If I could make it happen?"

"Of course!" exclaimed Christiane. "I would marry you this instant. But how?"

"Just a minute!" Percival called over his shoulder as he dashed from his chambers.

Christiane stood leaning against the table, confused and waiting.

A good ten minutes later, Percival returned with Geoffrey of Monmouth, the royal librarian who also performed weddings, coronations, and all official court ceremonies, and Gwaine. The eager knight explained, "Geoffrey can perform a binding wedding ceremony and Gwaine can act as witness. Will you do this?"

Christiane flung her arms around Percival and kissed him. "I will," she said breathlessly. "You have no idea how much I want this!"

Geoffrey suggested mildly, "Perhaps you should save that for the end of the wedding ceremony."

"We don't have a lot of time," Gwaine hurried the couple along. "Arthur issued an order that all knights retire to their chambers beginning at midnight so they're prepared and rested for travel tomorrow. And you need enough time for the ceremony and to, um, consummate the marriage."

Christiane and Percival laughed. "Somehow, I knew you'd mention that," Percival said.

Gwaine replied seriously, "Listen, I know how much this means to you and you're both my friends; like a brother and sister to me. I'll stand outside with the other castle guard and I'll handle the marriage bed sheets when you're...when you're done."

Gwaine was referring to the custom where two people stood outside of the marriage bed chamber and ensured the union was consummated based on the sounds they heard within. It was also customary to hang the bloodied sheets outside of the castle in order to prove the marriage was valid. Gwaine planned to personally hang the sheets far away on the other side of the castle.

"Shall we begin?" Geoffrey asked, recognizing time was of the essence. Christiane and Percival nodded. "Please clasp hands," the officiant instructed. "And please repeat after me, Percival:

"I, Percival, take thee, Christiane, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward."

Percival repeated the words.

"For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, for fairer or fouler, in sickness and in health."

Once again, he recited the vows.

"To love and to cherish, 'till death do us part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereunto I grant thee my love and fidelity."

Christiane then repeated the same promises to Percival, her voice thick with emotion. Percival wanted nothing more than to gather her into his arms and kiss her, but he knew he had to wait until the ceremony had concluded.

"Now, it is time to bless the rings," Geoffrey proclaimed. "Do, you, er, have rings?"

"Just the betrothal ring," Confessed Percival with slight chagrin.

Gwaine twisted his ring off his finger and handed it to Christiane. "Here. Use this for now. Percival can give it back to me when we return from Camlann."

Christiane was incredibly touched by Gwaine's thoughtful gesture. "Thank you, Gwaine. Of course."

Geoffrey went on to say, "Percival, once again, repeat after me:

"With this ring I thee wed, and with my body, I thee honor, and with all my worldly goods, I thee endow."

Percival repeated the prayer, removed the betrothal ring from Christiane's finger and placed it back on her hand. Christiane then placed Gwaine's borrowed ring on Percival's finger.

Geoffrey concluded the ceremony with, "Those whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder. For as much as Percival and Christiane have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have given and pledged their love and fidelity to each other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving of rings, and by joining of hands; I pronounce them man and wife, in the name of God and the King. You may now kiss your bride."

The couple stood in disbelief for a moment. At last, Percival took Christiane into his arms and for the first time as a husband, tenderly touched his lips to his wife's, while the whole world melted away. This kiss wasn't filled with passion and need, but gentle love. After several moments of them standing together with their lips locked, Gwaine cleared his throat.

Geoffrey told the newlyweds, "I have a preliminary marriage contract for you and your witness to sign. It is binding. I'll have the final one completed by the time you return from battle."

At Percival's table, each signed the contract.

"All the best to you, truly," said Geoffrey. "I will pray for your safe return." He left Percival's chambers.

"That's my cue to leave," Gwaine said. "I'll be outside the door. With my fingers in my ears," he joked. "I'll let you know when it's close to midnight." He clasped arms with Perceval and hugged Christiane. "I love you both. Congratulations."

Percival and Christiane stood in the chamber, alone, as husband and wife.

"I've waited for this moment for so long. But now that it's here, I find myself pretty nervous," Christiane acknowledged.

"Don't be," Perceval reassured his new wife, as he cupped her face. "It's just me, after all. And we'll go through this together."

Still apprehensive, Christiane explained, "I'm worried about the pain and blood. Or, that I'll be one of the women who doesn't bleed and no one will believe..."

"Hopefully, it won't be all pain and blood," Percival interrupted with a smile. "I want nothing more than to please you. I know this first time will be difficult, but we'll take it slowly, one step at a time. Together. Agreed?" Christiane nodded her head, feeling a bit more relaxed. "Now, if I may, I'd like to kiss you, Wife."

"I would like that, Husband."

Percival kissed Christiane slowly and gently. He brushed her lower lip with his tongue, and she responded in kind. He held her face and caressed it with his thumb as he kissed her. Next, running his hands lightly over her hips and waist, he gently moved his palms against her breasts.

Then, Percival took his new wife's hand and led her to the bed. Christiane realized she was no longer afraid. A little nervous, and a bit excited. After all, she was with the love of her life and she knew he'd treat her kindly and gently the first time they made love. How much could it hurt? If it was that bad people would never do it again.

With some shyness, Percival asked, "May I undress you? Or, would you rather undress me first?"

"It's going to take you a while to unlace the back of this dress, so you should probably take care of that first."

Christiane turned her back toward Percival and he sat on the bed. He carefully lifted her hair and placed it over her shoulder, then clumsily, with slightly trembling hands, began to unlace the dress. After a minute or so, the dress fell to the floor in a puddle, followed be her corset. Christiane, left in her sheer linen shift, turned to face Percival and he carefully pulled her down onto the bed, kissing her lightly as he rolled gently on top of her. He then peeled off his shirt and tossed it behind him carelessly.

Christiane then asked, "May I?" motioning toward his trousers. He nodded in consent, and she gingerly unlaced his breeches. The new husband pulled them down and kicked them away, left with nothing but his drawers, obviously aroused.

Without permission, Percival reached for the hem of Christiane's shift and pulled it up over her head, tossing it over his shoulder. She decided to be bold and removed her undergarments while she lay on the bed. Percival responded by pulling off his drawers as well. They were finally both completely bare.

Good Lord, she tempted him.

During their last frenzied encounter in the woods, Percival been too desperate to touch Christiane and worried someone might come upon them, so he'd barely glanced at her naked body then. But now that her soft, beautiful, bare-skinned form rested beneath him, bathed in gentle candlelight, he felt a little lightheaded with desire.

"Wait," he said before he completely forgot himself, and rose to retrieve a small, folded sheet from his wardrobe to place underneath Christiane so he could remove it easily in order to give Gwaine the evidence of their consummation.

As he approached his wife, the new husband experienced a moment of intense anxiety. If he was being honest with himself, Percival really didn't know what he was doing in the marriage bed. His one brief and fairly disastrous encounter with that woman in Mercia hadn't prepared him at all. If the newlywed had known he was going to bed Christiane on this night, he would have asked Gwaine a dozen very specific questions, no matter how embarrassing it would have been or how raucously his friend might have laughed at him. Percival had heard stories from some of the maids about them taking on lovers because their husbands couldn't perform adequately, and the notion made him ill.

The nervous husband took a steadying breath and reminded himself that Christiane had seemed to enjoy their previous activities. She'd even had an orgasm with him; he was certain of that. Or, as certain as a man could be.

Percival shook off his jitters, crawled into bed, positioned the folded sheet beneath his wife's hips, and covered them both with a blanket. His gaze swept over Christiane again as he admired her beauty once more: her soft, fair skin, deep blue eyes, and her intoxicating smell. The knight loved the way her dark hair fanned out on the pillow in his bed. Their bed, now. He cherished his new wife more than he could express.

Christiane reached out and stroked Percival with her hand, feeling how hot and rigid he was. He explored her intimate folds with his fingers as they kissed and touched, finding her slick and aroused.

"I'm ready," she whispered huskily into his ear.

Percival prayed silently that he would last more than thirty seconds, not cause his wife too much pain, and give her some pleasure. He'd dreamed of this moment for so many nights, hoping that one day, Christiane would be in their marriage bed, calling out his name in the throes of passion. And here she was, a beautiful, willing, ready vision. The man could scarcely believe it was happening.

He placed himself between Christiane's legs, took her chin in his hand and said, "I love you."

"And I, you."

Percival positioned himself at her entrance, and eased inside very slowly, a fraction of an inch at a time, exercising as much control as humanly possible.

_This isn't so bad_, Christiane thought at first. _It just burns and stings a bit._

Percival reached her barrier, and knew he'd have to move with more force. He pushed harder, feeling it give way, and was suddenly fully sheathed within her unbelievably tight, wet walls. It felt amazing, and his hunger for her only grew. He was unable to stifle a loud groan of passion. Being inside of Christiane, touching her without restriction, was completely exhilarating.

Unfortunately, it didn't feel as amazing for Christiane. She'd promised herself she wouldn't cry when the time came, but it was difficult. She suppressed a whimper, yet tears sprang to her eyes and trickled down toward her ear. The pain was sharp and the burning feeling was intense. Percival knew immediately she was totally uncomfortable and he felt guilty.

"Should we stop?" he whispered in her ear, concerned. A part of him was terrified that she'd want him to stop, and he didn't know if he could. Such loss of control frightened him a little.

"No, no," she said shakily. "Just lie very still for a minute."

He complied and kissed away the tears, waiting as patiently as he could, gritting his teeth and willing his body to remain still.

Christiane took a few deep breaths. "Okay. I'm ready."

Percival began moving within her again, very slowly and gently. With each careful thrust, Christiane's pain grew less and less, until it was just a dull ache. She slowly began to enjoy the feeling of her new husband inside of her, and her breath came more rapidly. Once he recognized her discomfort was largely gone, Percival panted softly, "You feel incredible. So good."

As he continued moving above her and inside of her, Christiane made sure this memory was forever locked in her mind: the way Percival felt inside of her, the feel of his muscled back and arms under her hands, his body pressed firmly against hers, the joy she felt.

She also realized he felt good inside of her now. Exceptional, actually. The young bride noticed her husband's breathing matched her own, rapid, with a few moans and sighs mixed in. Christiane could feel herself begin to dissolve into pleasure. She hadn't expected this the first time, and it was surprising. She hooked her legs around Percival's waist and clasped her hands on his arse, using her touch to guide his movements faster and deeper. Each delicious thrust felt better than the last.

Percival did everything in his power to breathe smoothly and evenly; he was determined that his wife would have her pleasure first. The effort of holding off made him sweat, and a bead of perspiration dripped from his nose onto his wife's neck.

"Oh, please!" Christiane pleaded emphatically, as she writhed underneath her husband, toes curling, hips arching up toward him, dragging her nails sharply down his back, finding her exquisite release.

Percival was only seconds behind her. Having his wife cry out with such passion, feeling her nails bite into his skin while the waves of her orgasm gripped him was more than he could stand. He thrust into her a few more times with all he could, and spilled his seed inside of her with a mighty groan.

It was done. They had made love as husband and wife. And Percival realized for the first time in a very long time, he finally felt at home. Safe and loved. He collapsed onto Christiane's chest for a minute while both of them waited for their heart beats and breathing to slow.

After resting in each other's arms, Christiane suddenly clasped her hand over her mouth and groaned, "Oh, no! My father!"

"What about him?" Percival asked, perplexed.

"How will I explain to him we've married?"

Percival brushed a damp tendril of hair away from his wife's face, then absently twirled it around his finger. "I wouldn't be too concerned. I asked him for your hand in marriage well over a week ago and he accepted."

"That's a relief," she sighed, and then made a face of mild dismay. "I'm worried about the sheet," Christiane confessed. "I think there's going to be a bit of blood. On you, too."

"Nothing a cloth and a little water won't handle," Percival assured his wife. "Remember, I've seen battle wounds; this is nothing," he teased. "Why don't I just grab the sheet and bring it out to Gwaine so we don't have to think about it anymore?"

He sat up and noticed a modest amount of blood on the sheet, about the size of a fist, and a little bit on himself and Christiane's legs. There'd be no question about her virginity or their consummation.

Percival gently removed the sheet and folded it up, then retrieved two washcloths and dampened them with clean water from his wash basin. With the first, he wiped himself off quickly. He brought the fresh washcloth to his wife and said, "Here you are. I'm going to put on my breeches for a moment and see Gwaine." He wanted to give Christiane a little privacy to clean herself. She nodded and accepted the damp cloth gratefully. Percival slipped into his breeches, kissed his wife's cheek, and left the chamber.

Gwaine sat on the ground outside of his friends' door. He'd obviously dismissed the other guard, which relieved Percival; the new husband felt more at ease knowing he had only to face his good friend. This was a time where Gwaine could have made lewd jokes, but he didn't.

"Everything go well?" Gwaine asked, sincerely.

Percival handed over the folded sheet. "As if you couldn't hear!"

"Then I'd say it went well and you have one happy new bride on your hands! I'll take care of this," said Gwaine, rising to accept the sheet. "You don't have long," he added. "I'll come back and knock when it's time." They clasped forearms.

"Oh, and Percival? You'll want to get some balm on that back before we ride out tomorrow," Gwaine called over his shoulder as he strode off with the sheet.

Percival seemed puzzled for a moment, then remembered how his wife's nails had dragged down his back. He smiled. "I'll keep that in mind," he said as he returned to his bride.

He walked back to his marriage bed, and before he could say a word, Christiane eagerly asked, "Do we have time to do that again?"

The new husband couldn't help but chuckle. "We do. We don't have a lot of time, but I promise, when I return, we'll go slowly; we can take all day if you want."

"Might need a few breaks," she joked, and drew her husband closer, eventually pulling him back into bed. "But I want to do it again. Now."

It took nothing more than those words to make Percival instantly hard again. He shucked off his breeches and began kissing Christiane's mouth, her neck, her breasts. He went lower and kissed her abdomen, then the top of each thigh. Boldly, he kissed the dark hair between Christiane's legs. He'd never performed oral sex before, but he'd listened to both Gwaine and Michael carry on for seemingly endless hours about how good they were, exactly what they did at each encounter, and so forth. They drew diagrams in the dirt with their swords! Percival used to try to block them out, but recently, he'd begun to listen surreptitiously.

He nudged her legs open and parted her folds gently with his fingers. Before Christiane could protest, Percival gently caressed her center with his fingers, and then, his tongue.

_Oh my God_, Christiane thought. _This is what Carina carries on about. It's a bit embarrassing, but it feels amazing. Fast and light as butterfly wings. Completely indescribable._

Percival continued to work his tongue against her, switching from using and up and down motion to a circular one. Within a minute or two, Christiane gasped and moaned, gripping the sheets, raking her fingers through his short hair; her orgasm was imminent. Percival slipped a finger inside of her, and she was done. She cried out loudly, and the young groom felt extremely satisfied with himself.

He discreetly wiped his mouth off on the bed sheets, got up on his knees, hooked Christiane's legs over his shoulders, and entered her swiftly. There was no pain this time, as far as Percival could tell.

Christiane was still experiencing waves of pleasure from her magnificent orgasm when Percival pushed himself inside of her. He was harder than ever, obviously relishing in her pleasure. The newlywed knew he wouldn't last long this time, but that was okay; the young man knew that he'd made his beautiful wife cry out with need and passion twice already that evening.

He moved inside of her harder and faster than before, Christiane, pressing her knees against his shoulders. Percival massaged her breasts and squeezed her nipples as he thrust, drowning in the amazing sensation of being inside of his gorgeous and enthusiastic wife. He didn't think it was possible, but Christiane began to moan and quiver on the bed again, and he knew she was close. They both found their release at almost the same moment.

Percival disengaged from his wife carefully, as he knew they were out of time and Gwaine would knock on their door at any moment.

"It's time, isn't it?" Christiane expressed tearfully.

The knight simply nodded his head, overwhelmed with emotion as he was. He couldn't remember the last time he'd cried; probably when his family was killed. He didn't want to weep tonight, but wasn't sure if he could contain himself.

Percival helped Christiane dress, lacing her gown carefully with gentle hands. As he did so, he said to his love, "Wait for me to return home before you move your things into these chambers; I want to help you do it."

He had just pulled the tunic over his head as he heard a light rap on the door. Gwaine called from the hallway, "I'm afraid it's time. I have the guard with me to escort Christiane home."

Christiane and Percival reached for each other and shared one final long, slow, emotional kiss. She moved toward the door and opened it, endeavoring to be as brave as possible.

"I'll see you in about a week, Christiane. I love you and I will come back to you," Percival whispered into her ear.

Willing herself to not collapse into a river of tears, she said to Percival, "I love you, too, Husband. I'll see you in a week and will pray for your safe return every night."

_Every second_, she amended in her mind.

They hugged one last time in the dim corridor before Christiane departed with the guard. She did not turn around to look at her husband, because she knew if she did so, she'd have to be dragged from the castle in hysterics.

Percival watched her walk away, longing for her, his heart heavy.

Gwaine approached his best friend. "We're going to slaughter that bitch Morgana and her whole damned army. We're going to save Camelot and get you back to your wife," he promised as he forced Percival into a brotherly hug.

"God, I hope so," said Percival, patting his friend on the back.

The newlywed bolted the door to his now-empty chambers, facing what he knew would be an entirely sleepless night.

His bed had never felt so cold.


	7. Chapter 7 Return Road

**A/N - That was quite the abrupt wedding during chapter six! It's too bad it wasn't under happier circumstances. Also, I adopted the medieval wedding vows from a variety of sources, and they're as authentic as possible for the time. As you can see, wedding vows haven't really changed all that much. **

**And yes, Christiane and Percival have FINALLY done the deed. I love reading about wedding night sex; I find it so full of love and passion. I hope this chapter did it justice. And Gwaine's such a good friend to Percival and now Christiane.**

**On to chapter seven! What will happen during the battle of Camlann? Will Percival return home to his new wife? Will Arthur survive? Read on and find out (this chapter contains some blood and battle-oriented violence).**

Chapter 7 - Return Road

King Arthur entrusted Percival to lead a group of one hundred men to head-off Morgana's ambush at a hidden ridge-pass at Camlann. Percival lead his men fearlessly; he slashed, parried, and beat with force that he scarcely knew he had. He cut down every man who challenged him, savagely and swiftly. Mercifully, his group successfully thwarted the surprise attack on their camp. But Camelot's soldiers still had to face Morgana's full army at midnight, back at the main battlefield. Luckily, Percival was still without as much as a scratch.

The midnight battle of Camlann arrived; it was shockingly ferocious and exceedingly brutal, with many casualties on both sides. Thousands of men fought shoulder to shoulder in the long, but narrow rocky mountain pass.

The screams of the wounded and dying were near deafening, something Percival never experienced before. In his past battle encounters, he observed that men often met death quietly, sometimes, with soft moans of pain, other times, they called out for their wives or mothers. But these shrieks of agony were like nothing he'd ever heard, and Percival desperately wanted to clap his hands over his ears like when he was a young child and violent crashes of thunder had frightened him. The screams felt as if they tore through him and made his soul ache. This was a war like he'd never known; there was an extreme darkness and evil to it. Yet Percival knew this was no time to let his emotions get the best of him, so he fought on.

As the clanging of swords rang out, an inexplicable shift in the battle occurred. Morgana's men stormed forth as if bolstered by some unseen force, and King Arthur's army began to lose ground. Morgana's soldiers charged Arthur's army with astounding power; swords carved, battle axes fell, war hammers smashed, burning arrows flew, and spears sliced through the night. And the casualties mounted.

As the cruel assault continued, men perished all around him, and Percival thought he would die where he stood, never to return home to his wife. The warrior felt an instant of paralyzing grief at the idea of never seeing his bride again. But he rallied. He would not die a coward. The knight wanted word to go back to Christiane that he had perished with courage and honor. Covered in others' slick blood and drenched in his own sweat, Percival fought on mercilessly, wielding his sword with the force of ten men, the putrid stench of torn guts, spilled blood, and fear all around him.

As quickly as the tide of the battle changed against King Arthur's army, it suddenly switched. Arthur's men advanced once again, strengthened by Leon's cry of, "For the love of Camelot!" and Morgana's men began to fall swiftly and in great numbers.

As he fought, Percival heard otherworldly, thunderous sounds from above. He glanced skyward and saw and that mouthy old sorcerer, Dragoon, the man whom he'd had a run-in some time back. Perched atop a cliff, the ancient-looking warlock appeared to be glowing with from within. The old sorcerer shot brilliant lightning bolts from his fists, directed squarely at Morgana's army.

"I'll be damned," Percival said to no one. He never would have imagined that strange old sorcerer was on Camelot's side. Or, that he was so incredibly powerful.

The battle raged on for a short time. Arthur's soldiers fought like warrior poets, cutting down their enemies with force and fury rarely seen, until Morgana's forces were clearly in full retreat.

A final, blinding lightning bolt flew from Dragoon's hands and struck Morgana dead. The battle was won.

The field grew quiet, save the moans of the less-injured. Percival took stock of his surroundings and saw Gwaine a good distance away, nursing a bloody nose, but he appeared to be otherwise unhurt. Percival then realized he'd likely have a black eye, possibly two, where an opponent's stray shield had smacked him on the bridge of his nose during combat. But there was no sign of their king. And that was incredibly bad.

Leon rushed up to Percival, his blue eyes wide with anxiety, beard and curly blonde hair flecked with blood, followed by Gwaine, who was equally blood-splattered. "We must search for Arthur, as long as it takes," the knight commander told them breathlessly.

"No," Gwaine countered. "You need to bring the queen and our army home safely. Percival and I will find Arthur. Two men will attract far less attention than an entire army."

Leon nodded slowly in agreement. "You're right. Godspeed to both of you, my friends." He turned his back and strode away, immediately taking charge of orchestrating a safe return to Camelot.

"Ready?" asked Gwaine, facing Percival.

"I am. Let's find our king."

XXXX

Back in Camelot, Christiane spent her days in a fog and a state of perpetual worry. All day long, she prayed for Percival's safe return and that she had conceived his child during their one night together. If he didn't come back to her, she wanted his baby. And if he returned, a babe would be a special blessing. Though it would take several more weeks before she could confirm a possible pregnancy.

Carina was thrilled to learn that her friend and Percival had married in secret, declaring it the most romantic thing ever. The young woman tried to occupy Christiane every spare moment.

When Christiane told her father about her marriage, Carina was right by her side in the tavern. Will was happy for his daughter and bowed jokingly, saying, "My lady, Christiane!" But no one at the Rising Sun laughed. It had become a somber place as the patrons worried about their king's life and the future of Camelot.

Carina insisted Christiane stay with her while Percival was gone. For the first four nights, Christiane declined. On the fifth night, when the soldiers began to trickle back into Camelot, but there was no sign nor word of Percival, Christiane relented and stayed at her dear friend's home. "He's going to come home soon," assured Carina. "I just know it."

XXXX

Normally, people entered the kingdom of Camelot via Return Road, the main entryway into the city. When knights returned from battle, this was the route they always took. Townspeople would come out in droves to cheer their safe return, waving banners and flags bearing the golden Pendragon crest and scarlet colors.

On the sixth day of Percival's absence, word reached the people of Camelot that several hundred warriors were only miles away from Return Road. Christiane and Carina's young neighbor, David, pounded on the door. "They're coming home! The knights and warriors!"

The two women raced to the road and stood among the throngs of well-wishers lining the sides of the wide street. Returning warriors galloped past for five minutes, then ten. There was no sign of Percival. Sir Leon, looking in-charge and proper as always, spotted Christiane and dismounted to speak with her briefly.

"Christiane, King Arthur is missing. I had to send Gwaine and Percival to try to find him. I'm sorry, but I'm not sure exactly when he'll return." He tried to comfort her by saying, "Just so you know, I never would have sent your husband if I didn't have complete confidence in his abilities."

"Thank you, Sir Leon. It's better to have some news than none at all."

Leon lightly grasped her shoulder in support, mounted his horse, and rode toward the castle.

Christiane nearly collapsed into Carina's arms with misery. "Give him a little time, love," said Carina. "Come on now, let's go back to my house."

XXXX

Three more days passed, and the newlywed was certain she would go mad with worry. She wondered if her husband was dead, and that she would never see him again or know of his fate. Percival had been gone for a total of ten days now: ten, long, excruciating days. Christiane's courses were several days late, but she had forgotten all about pregnancies and children.

Late that overcast afternoon, in Christiane's loft, she sat on her bed with Carina next to her. Quite out of nowhere, the young women heard a manic pounding at her front door. Christiane peered out of her window and saw David standing there, covered in perspiration, panting. The boy shouted up at her, "The scouts have a spotted a group of four returning to Camelot. They're certain it's King Arthur, Merlin, Gwaine, and Percival."

Christiane raced down the steps from the loft, took a moment to slip on her shoes, and Carina followed. They ran as quickly as their feet would carry them, and when the two arrived at the roadside, a few dozen people were already there, anxiously waiting to learn the fate of their king. Dozens more people arrived, and before long, well over one hundred people stood at the edge of the road. Then hundreds more.

David raced down the middle of the dirt road, kicking up dust, bellowing, "They're almost here!"

The excited crowd began to chant, "Long live the king! Long live the king!"

And while Christiane was thrilled that the king had returned, she held her breath waiting for a glimpse of her husband. Moments later, there he was. Merlin rode out front, and Arthur was flanked by Gwaine and Percival. It hardly registered with Christiane that the king looked as if he were sick and in pain. The young sovereign's blonde hair slick with sweat, his strapping body hunched over his horse. But Christiane had eyes only for her husband. And speaking of eyes, she noticed Percival had two black eyes and a rather angry-looking burn on his left arm. Other than that, he appeared to be in excellent health.

People cheered, yelled, leapt up and down, and threw flowers at their sovereign. Shouts of, "Bless you, King Arthur!" and, "We love you, sire!" rang out.

Percival remained aware of any danger to the king, but began to scan the crowd for his beloved wife. Gwaine actually spotted her first. "There she is, man. Say a quick hello and then we have to get Arthur up to the castle. Guinevere will be worried. We'll slow down, but just for a minute."

Percival handed the reins to Gwaine, leapt off of his horse, took five large strides to Christiane, and gathered her in his arms. He covered her mouth with his, and the crowd cheered.

"I know you have to get the king to safety. Just tell me you're all right," Christiane said.

"My face looks like hell," Percival joked. "But truly, I'm fine. Just tired and filthy." He added, "Come up to our quarters when you can. I have to spend some time briefing the queen and Leon, but as soon as I'm done, and have taken a bath, I'll come to you straight away."

She nodded, and Percival kissed her hand before he mounted Aethon once again.

Christiane wept with relief. Few people knew that she and the hulking young knight had married in secret, so Carina explained the situation to the crowd. Christiane's friends, neighbors, tavern patrons, and people she scarcely knew congratulated her, and a large, lively group escorted her home so she could change and grab a few belongings before going to the castle.

Christiane entered her home, her old home now, alone, and was grateful for the peace and quiet. She felt quite nauseous, but dismissed it as nerves and excitement. As she packed a few items into her sack, she realized that her menstrual padding sat tucked away, unused. Christiane should have needed it about four or five days prior. She decided to keep this fact to herself, since her cycle could be late due to all of the recent stress. The young woman took a deep breath, and set off toward her new home, the castle.

When she arrived at the castle's main entrance, Christiane announced herself to the guard. "I'm Christiane Port. I mean, Martel! Christiane Martel, Percival's wife."

The guard asked no questions and stepped aside to allow her entry. Christiane ascended the stairs to her new, shared quarters, and sat on the bed, unsure of what to do. She withdrew a thick book on herbology from her sack, planning to read it in order to pass the time, but she was so exhausted, she immediately dozed off.

A few hours later, after many briefings, meetings, and at last, a glorious bath, an exhausted Percival returned to his quarters to find a few candles sputtering out, and his wife fast asleep on the bed with a book open against her chest. It was the most beautiful sight in the world, and relief washed over him. He was home safely, King Arthur would recover, and the love of his life was resting safely in his bed. A man could ask for nothing more.


	8. Chapter 8 Settling In

**A/N - I hope you enjoyed chapter seven. Our men and King Arthur made it home from Camlaan. Hoorah! I will confess, writing battle scenes isn't my forte, so it was a bit of a struggle for me. I hope it was clear enough. **

**During chapter eight, there's more sex (of course) and Percival tries to relay his battle experiences and all that transpired afterward to Christiane. There are also some light-hearted scenes, and we meet a young newcomer named Ulrich, who has arrived at Camelot to begin his training as a knight. **

**Thank you all for your continued support!**

Chapter 8 - Settling In

Drained from his journey, Percival stripped down to his underclothes and silently crawled into bed next to his wife. Christiane had told him she was a light sleeper, but she didn't stir; he knew she must be exhausted, too. He, on the other hand, always slept like the dead. He was asleep mere moments after his head touched the pillow.

The two rested soundly for several hours. When Christiane woke in the middle of the night, she felt disoriented briefly, then recalled where she was. Christiane the realized she needed to use the privy, which was located only a few feet down the hallway.

When she returned to room, she saw Percival was awake and had lit a candle at their bedside. "I thought you slept like the dead!" said Christiane.

"I do. Usually. But I want you more than I want sleep right now. Please."

Christiane began to undress, as she'd fallen asleep fully-clothed.

"No," said Percival. "I want you right this moment, if you'll have me."

"Of course. I want you, too. I've missed you."

Percival felt desperate to touch Christiane's body. He rose from the bed and deliberately bent his wife over the edge of it. He dropped his drawers quickly, and hastily lifted Christiane's skirts. He pulled her undergarments down as fast as he could, and teased the soft flesh between her legs, rubbing her sensitive spot with increasing pressure. She gasped, and was ready to receive him almost instantly. Percival spread her legs open wider with his knees, and thrust into her in one motion, his rigid cock filling her. Christiane moaned and tossed her head backward with delight.

Pausing to make sure she was all right before carrying on, he asked, "Is this okay, love?"

"Yes," she said huskily. "Please!"

She felt a little embarrassed to speak so boldly, but Percival loved it. He pumped inside of her as fast as he could, over and over, entering her as deeply as possible. He reached his hand forward to massage between Christiane's legs as he thrust forcefully. Within seconds, she called out his name in the heat of passion, with Percival close behind.

When they were done, Percival removed himself from her gently. "Do you feel okay? Did that hurt at all? I'm sorry that was so...abrupt."

Christine laughed softly. "No, I loved it."

"We have so much to talk about. Are you still sleepy?" asked Percival.

"Not at all. I want to hear about everything that happened!" Christiane exclaimed, eager to hear all of the details.

"Gather up a comfortable spot on the bed, then, because this may take a while."

After the two had climbed into bed and settled beneath the covers, Percival proceeded to tell the story of the battle of Camlann (omitting the gorier details), as well as the deaths of Morgana and her henchman Mordred. Percival also explained that someone's stray shield had smacked him between the eyes, hence, the two dark circles beneath them; he was unsure how the burn on his arm came to be.

The knight went on to describe the events that occurred post-battle, conjuring up the details in his mind as best he could:

_As Percival and Gwaine prepared to ride out to search for King Arthur, Gaius stopped the two knights and explained that Arthur had been seriously wounded by his enemy, Mordred. During battle, young Mordred had viciously stabbed the king with a sword impregnated with dark magic, and a fragment of the weapon remained inside of Arthur, allowing the evil magic to course through the young ruler. _

_Gaius elaborated that Merlin had found the seriously-injured king on the battlefield and was in the process of taking Arthur to the island of Avalon, a place where ancient magic was most powerful. The Sidhe__**[3]**__ live on Avalon, and Gaius believed that their powers could heal the king, who was close to death. _

_The court physician then solemnly informed the two knights that Merlin was a powerful warlock. And that Merlin had, in fact, transformed into the old sorcerer, Dragoon, who had assisted King Arthur's men during the battle, cutting down the opposition with magically-summoned lightening. _

_Both Percival and Gwaine sat upon their horses in disbelief as Gaius relayed the information. Yet the knights agreed that they trusted Merlin wholeheartedly, and it didn't matter to them that Merlin had magic. As long as the young warlock could save their sovereign's life, that's all that mattered._

"But no one must know about Merlin's powers," Percival impressed upon Christiane. "Arthur is going to announce it at some point, but not just yet, as this will take quite a bit of restructuring of our laws and customs regarding the ban on magic and sorcery."

Christiane nodded, eager to hear the rest of the story.

Percival did his best to describe the following events:

_It took the two knights more than a hard day's ride to get to Avalon. Percival and Gwaine stopped only for one brief rest so they didn't fall from their horses with exhaustion. _

_The friends closed in on the island by the next nightfall, and they scoured the woods nearby until they finally located Merlin and Arthur; the sorcerer and the king had made camp in the dense forest. Gwaine and Percival could plainly see the king was very ill; the man was dangerously pale, hunched over and moaning in obvious pain. Sensing his friends' worry, Merlin assured the men Arthur would recover after a good deal of rest._

Percival said to Christiane, "We told Merlin we knew about his powers, and we didn't care, as long as the king was safe.

"Merlin looked quite relieved at that point, and that's when he told us it was his destiny is to serve and protect Arthur, and he used magic only for good; that is how it would always be."

"You'll never believe this," Percival continued, "but Merlin then told us the most amazing story about how he, the Sidhe, and the Great Dragon harnessed their powers together in order to save the king's life." The knight clarified, "Apparently, their combined magic dissolved the cursed sword-fragment that had been stuck inside of the king."

"And one last thing," said Percival with some measure of relief. "It appears that Mordred died at Arthur's hand just before the king collapsed."

Christiane looked hopeful. "That's wonderful news! Morgana and Mordred are defeated and the king will recover!"

"Not entirely good news," Percival admitted. "Merlin told us he, the Side, and the Great Dragon were able to dissolve the shard of metal within Arthur's body, but they weren't able to rid the king entirely of the dark magic coursing through his blood. Merlin explained this curse could kill Arthur within five years…possibly ten; the timeframe isn't certain."

"However," Percival stated hopefully, "Merlin revealed that as his powers grow, he should be able to rid the king of this dark curse, or at least slow down the progression."

"Oh, the king," Christiane commented sadly. "I hope Merlin can help him. Will Arthur deteriorate slowly?"

"It seems not," explained Percival. "Our warlock-friend thinks Arthur should remain in otherwise fairly good health until...until the very end."

Christiane shook her head in disbelief. "Still, Merlin, a great sorcerer! It's hard to believe."

"That's what I thought, too," Percival chuckled. "I scarcely believed it until he demonstrated his powers."

"What did he do?" asked Christiane, her eyes wide.

Smiling slightly at the memory, Percival told his wife, "Merlin sent Gwaine floating up to the treetops, and then eased him back down to the ground, like a feather." Chuckling, the knight commented, "I have to say, it was the first time I'd ever seen Gwaine look really scared. Once he'd landed safely, we all found it quite funny, even King Arthur."

"This is all amazing," Christiane interjected.

"I know. Unbelievable, really." Percival paused thoughtfully for a moment. "And Merlin said something that really stuck with me: 'Magic is imperfect, fluid, and ever-changing.' I think we'd all do well to remember that."

Christiane fully agreed.

Percival ended his long story with, "I'm sorry it took us such a long time to get home. But Arthur was so ill, travel back to Camelot was very slow."

Eager to hear how his wife had fared during his absence, Percival quickly changed topics and asked, "But how are you, my love? How did you do while I was gone?"

"I just missed you so much. And worried about you. Carina was so kind to me."

"I knew she would treat you well," Percival said. "She's a wonderful friend."

The couple elected to get some more rest and remained comfortably wrapped in each other's arms until morning.

XXXX

As the summer sun rose higher in the blue sky, the couple realized they were starving. Percival said to his wife, "I have the whole day off today; absolutely no duties until tomorrow, thank heaven. Would you like to go to the market to get breakfast?"

With a sly smile, Christiane replied, "I would, but there's something I'd like to do first."

The young wife lowered the blanket that covered the couple and crawled on top of her husband and kissed him. First his lips, then neck, trailing kisses down his rock-hard chest and stomach. She kept inching further down and finally tugged down Percival's drawers; his erection sprang forth. Before he could utter an inquiry, Christiane lowered herself to take as much of Percival's length into her mouth as she could. She placed her hand at the base of his cock, gripping firmly as she went to work.

"Lord have mercy!" Percival groaned as his hips bucked. He panted and grasped the bed sheets as if to anchor himself to the earth. Never having been pleased orally, the young husband found the new sensation utterly amazing.

Christiane moved her mouth and hand swiftly and easily up and down his erection, keeping the pressure even and firm with her mouth and gripping more tightly with her hand. She moved her tongue against him as she sucked, and within a minute or two, Percival knew he was on the verge of coming in her mouth, and he didn't want to subject Christiane to that if she wasn't ready for it. But when she locked eyes with him for a moment as she continued to please him, that's what really sent him over the edge. It was totally erotic; there was no other way to say it.

Percival tried to warn her of his impending climax. "Wait, wait, I'm..."

She stopped her ministrations for a second, and said, "No, it's okay," and resumed her attention to her husband's thick length. Christiane felt his sudden tightening, followed by a loud groan, and her mouth accepted Percival's seed. She didn't think it was a big ordeal, and had no idea why so many women complained about it. There wasn't much of it, and it had a slightly salty taste. It wasn't unpleasant at all.

Once Percival came to his senses, he asked, with slight suspicion, "I don't mean for this to sound skeptical, but where on earth did you learn to do that?"

"Carina gave me a bit of a training session," Christiane confessed. "On a cucumber."

Percival dissolved into laughter. "Remind me to thank her some time."

Ravenous after their activity, he asked, "Are you ready to go to the market? It'll be open soon."

"Yes! I could eat a whole sheep's head!" declared Christiane.

XXXX

It was a perfect summer morning to go to the market. The day was sunny, yet breezy and a little cool. Christiane stopped at one of her favorite merchants, a woman who sold delicious, dense breads filled with nuts and fruits. The merchant also offered mouthwatering spreads of berries, in addition to rich butters mixed with honey. Christiane knew Percival would love all of it, so she purchased a good selection.

The happy couple chose to sit under the shade of a tree off to the side of the market as they ate, savoring the thick, luscious bread and spreads. "I could eat this every day," Percival commented with a groan of satisfaction as he polished off a huge slice of the loaf. "We must get more for tomorrow."

They purchased some more loaves and spreads together, then strolled at a leisurely pace around the market to view the wares: dried meat, fruits and vegetables, cheese, candles, herbal medicines, cloth, weaponry, jewelry, horse saddles, hairbrushes, wraps, and shoes; Camelot had quite the marketplace. People traveled from all over the kingdom to purchase the merchants' offerings.

Christiane paused at a stall for a moment in order to admire a piece of jewelry that caught her eye. It was a necklace with a blue scallop shell in the center, similar to the one Percival had given her on their first outing. Except this piece also contained other tiny and delicate shells and beads dotted along the ribbon.

"That's very nice," Percival commented. "It reminds me of that necklace I gave you."

"I was thinking the exact same thing," Christiane said. "I loved that necklace; it meant so much to me. I was devastated when I realized it was missing."

"I think this one will do," said Percival with a wink.

"No! It's far too costly!"

"No, it's not. I'm buying it either way. If you don't wear it, then I will," he offered jokingly.

"That wouldn't fit around your neck in a hundred years!"

"Then I guess you'd better wear it."

Percival completed the transaction with the vendor and tied the piece around his wife's neck.

"How does it look?" asked Christiane.

"It's not bad, but you're far more beautiful than the necklace," Percival teased, then stopped to kiss Christiane right in the middle of the marketplace. His kiss was punctuated by a few whistles and cheers from passers-by.

"Call me a love-crazed fool, but I need to have you again," whispered Percival into his wife's ear.

She smiled. "Then let's return to the castle."

"No. I know a private place, much closer." He took her by the hand and led her behind an abandoned grain storehouse, away from the market crowd. The overgrowth was so dense, no one would venture through the thick vegetation and brush to discover them there.

Christiane dropped her cloth satchel and Percival easily lifted her off the ground and held her up against the stone wall of the old, dilapidated building. Christiane wrapped her legs around Percival's waist as he covered her mouth with warm and eager kisses. As Christiane caressed his muscular back, Percival quickly undid his belt and unlaced his trousers with one hand, letting them fall to his ankles.

Continuing to hold her up against the wall, Percival panted, "I need to be inside of you. Right now." He didn't remove his wife's undergarment; he simply pulled it aside and pushed his way in impatiently.

Percival felt so hard and strong against Christiane, and even more amazing inside of her. She couldn't help but gasp and cry out noisily with each strong and delicious thrust. Having forbidden sex like this, outside, made it feel even more arousing.

Percival could feel his own excitement building, thrusting in-and-out of his wife with glorious abandon, and knew this encounter wasn't going to last very long. But neither he nor his wife cared, as they were both just about ready to climax, lost in the exquisite sensations and completely enthralled with one another.

However, without warning, a man leapt from the bushes with his sword drawn and caught them in the act.

Christiane screamed with fear, and Percival, still inside of her, turned his head to see none other than Gwaine standing there, clutching his side and laughing so hard, tears came to his eyes.

"Good God, man!" Percival bellowed to his friend. "Turn around, will you?" he commanded as he carefully set down his wife, made sure she was covered, and pulled up his trousers.

"Sorry," Gwaine choked out, wiping away his tears as he tried to stifle his hysterical laughter. "With all of the noise, I thought someone was being killed back here! Newlyweds," he said with a shake of his head as he walked off.

"A private place, huh?" Christiane grumbled to her husband with an eyebrow raised.

"I'm really sorry," Percival apologized, but they both broke into laughter. He took his wife's hand and said, "Let's head back to the castle before we get into more trouble."

They emerged from the overgrown bushes when Christiane told Percival, "Can you wait a moment? Nature calls, and I can't wait to get back to the castle, I'm afraid."

"Of course. Take your time. I'll be at the weapons stall."

Christiane walked away swiftly.

As Percival perused the fine weapons for sale, a teenager approached him.

"I'm sorry to bother you," the young man said, "but I noticed you're wearing the Pendragon crest. Are you a knight?"

Percival eyed him a bit warily. The newcomer appeared to be fairly young, maybe seventeen years. Like most people, he was shorter than Percival, but still on the taller side. He had wavy, jet-black hair, a solid build, and the look of someone who'd been traveling - slightly disheveled and unshaven.

"I am," Percival replied.

The young man explained, "My letter here says I'm to go to the castle to begin my knight's training, but it doesn't say whom I should see. I don't want to be a nuisance when I get there, asking around. Would you be able to tell me who's in charge of the new recruits?"

Percival softened slightly. "That's Sir Leon. He's a good man. I'll be helping with training as well."

The young knight-to-be smiled broadly. "That's great to hear! I'm sure I can learn much from you. I'm Ulrich," he offered, extending his hand with enthusiasm.

"Percival," the older knight said, and they clasped forearms.

At that moment, Christiane returned. Ulrich stared at her, his mouth open. He was immediately struck by her smile, captivating blue eyes, pale skin, and voluptuous curves.

Percival noticed Ulrich's appraisal, and quickly said, in a warning tone, "Ulrich, this is my wife, Christiane. Christiane, Ulrich is reporting for training."

Ulrich quickly composed himself. "My lady, it's a pleasure to meet you," he insisted politely, and took her hand and kissed it softly.

"Welcome to Camelot!" exclaimed Christiane. "You're going to love the castle and the people. You'll receive great training. Arthur's knights are the best of the best." Graciously, she added, "I hope once you've settle in, you'll dine with us one evening."

Percival already wanted to punch this young interloper for admiring his wife so, and felt she made matters even worse by being so friendly. And inviting him for a meal? What was she thinking? And how had being in love changed him into a jealous arse? He'd always been so even-tempered and reasonable.

Ulrich replied, "That would be an honor."

He bowed his head slightly and told the couple, "It was wonderful meeting you both and I'll see you again soon, I'm sure."

The young man turned his back and continued toward the castle.

Christiane glanced at Percival and noticed frustration or anger in his eyes; she wasn't sure why.

"What's the matter? He seemed liked a nice young man."

Percival huffed. "A nice young man staring at you as if he wants to tear off your dress and have his way with you!"

"What? That's nonsense!" Christiane assured her frustrated husband. "Come on, let's go home. We have some unfinished business," she teased, grasping Percival's hand.

For the moment, he forgot all about Ulrich.

XXXX

Following a scandalously-good afternoon in bed, Christiane told Percival she had a little surprise for him. She reached into her cloth satchel and held something in her closed hand.

"What's that?" Percival asked.

"Something for you," she teased. "But before you can have it, you must answer my question first."

He leaned back in the bed, shirtless, resting his hands behind his head. "Sure. Anything you want to know."

"It's a difficult one," said Christiane in a teasing voice. "How long have you loved me?"

Percival scoffed, "Ha! Please, that's an easy one. The night we went on our first walk together."

"Really? You knew then?"

"Yes. I knew you were beautiful beforehand. That part was obvious. But once your kindness and good heart became more apparent, I was finished." Percival then asked, "When did you realize you loved me?"

"The day you first kissed me. The afternoon we went fishing. That's when I knew for certain."

"It took you long enough!" Percival joked.

Christiane tossed a handkerchief at him in jest. She then opened her hand, revealing a wedding band. It was made of thick silver and looked like a roughly-hammered piece of pipe. She knew that since Percival was a knight, a smooth, shiny ring would never do, as it would be scratched and dented within a day. Christiane slipped the ring onto his finger. Her husband had returned Gwaine's borrowed ring before the battle of Camlann and she'd wanted to give Percival a new one as soon as possible.

"That is perfect," the knight told her as he studied the unique piece closely. "How on earth did you know my ring size? And when did you have time to get this?"

"I got it from the silversmith while I pretended to excuse myself at the market," Christiane explained. "And the sizing was easy. Since nothing seems to wake you, last night, I wrapped a piece of string around your finger to measure it."

"Thanks, love. I'll wear it always and treasure it." Percival placed a soft kiss on his wife's forehead, pleased he now had a token that demonstrated he was a married man. The ring just felt so right on his finger.

Meanwhile, in a different wing of the castle, a young courtier made plans to disrupt Percival and Christiane's happy union.

* * *

><p>[3] The Sidhe are powerful, magical creatures who can live to be thousands of years old. They can be cruel, but they possess powerful healing magic. Their origins are in Irish and Scottish folklore.<p> 


	9. Chapter 9 Love Put to the Test

**A/N - Chapter eight was a dense one! Full disclosure - I really struggled with the scene where Percival explains to Christiane how Arthur was healed. I hope it's fairly clear. **

**And, of course, there was sex, sex, and more sex. When Gwaine "found" Christiane and Percival, writing that scene actually made me laugh out loud. **

**And now, you have officially met Ulrich, and you'll get to know him better in the upcoming chapters. Should Percival be worried about this newcomer?**

**During chapter nine, some big news is revealed, and the devious Lady Elora is back. Enjoy, and as always, thank you for reading.**

Chapter 9 - Love Put to the Test

Time passed quickly, as it does when one is happy and in love. Weeks flew by and warm summer breezes gave way to a hint of upcoming cooler autumn nights. Percival kept a close eye on Ulrich, who had recently been knighted in a small ceremony. While he wasn't thrilled with the young knight's presence, there was little he could do about it, other than make his days of training as long, difficult, and arduous as possible. And Ulrich accepted the older knight's tough training with as much grace as he could.

Christiane now worked infrequently at the tavern; she spent most of her hours training with Gaius as a healer, and she adored the job. Between being Percival's wife and Gaius's apprentice, she'd never been happier.

The novice-healer had just missed her second month of courses, and was quite sure she was pregnant. It was time to visit the midwife, and to inform her husband.

One morning, the newlyweds had a lie-in, which was a rare occurrence. Christiane was to train with Gaius later that night and Percival had afternoon patrol duties.

As she and Percival lounged in bed, relaxing, Christiane noticed a serious look on her husband's face and asked, "Percival? Is something wrong?"

"Not wrong exactly," Percival answered carefully as he sat up. "I just wanted to ask you about something."

"What is it?"

"Keep in mind, I'm no expert in women's health matters," said Percival nervously, "but I've noticed you haven't had your courses since I returned from battle."

Christiane grinned broadly. "Very observant!" She said honestly, "I wasn't entirely sure that I'm pregnant, but now that I've missed my cycle again, I'm ready to see the midwife. I promise, I was going to talk to you right after my visit with her."

"Will she be able to tell for certain?" Percival asked.

"I'm very sure she will."

Her eager husband insisted, "I want to go with you.

Christiane chuckled and said, "Love, the midwife is no place for a man! I'll go see her this morning, and as soon as I return, I'll find you. Okay?"

Percival leaned over in bed and kissed his wife fiercely on the lips. "You're carrying my child, I just know it. I couldn't be happier."

"Let's just wait for the midwife to confirm it before we get too excited."

"Of course," said Percival. He then suggested impatiently, "Why don't you go see her now?"

"Pushy this morning, aren't we? Fine, fine. Give me a few minutes to get dressed and then I'll go."

As Christiane dressed, Percival inquired somewhat haltingly, "I don't want to sound indelicate, but will we still be, um, intimate if you're with child?"

"Of course we will!" she replied. "As long as there's no problem with the pregnancy, it won't be an issue. Just keep in mind, the last month or so, it can be quite uncomfortable for women physically, so it might not happen all that much towards the very end."

With genuine care, Percival said, "Your health and comfort comes first."

While she rose from bed and pinned up her hair in front of the mirror, Christine further explained, "After delivery, it normally takes about a month or so before couples can resume intimate activities." Eyes cast downward, she asked nervously, "Are you going to be okay with that?"

"Of course," her husband insisted. "You're giving me a great gift. Why wouldn't I be all right with that? You know I'm patient."

"It's just that some men choose to be with other women during that period of time. To fulfill their needs." Christiane started to get choked up just thinking about it. Her husband, with another woman? She began to feel upset and nauseous at the very notion.

Percival rose from the bed and took Christiane's hand. "I would never do that to you, Wife. You're the love of my life and I wouldn't hurt you in that way. Remember the part of our wedding vows that spoke of love and fidelity? I take those seriously. Please, tell me you understand that." He kissed her palm.

Relief evident in her voice, she replied, "I do. You're such a good husband, Percival."

"Nah. You make it easy."

Christiane finished dressing, hugged Percival, and left for the midwife's home. It was a short walk, only a few minutes away. Mary, the midwife, posted her hours of availability on her door each week. Many women often arrived at the same time, so the practitioner had several comfortable chairs situated outside, and a few more indoors. She conducted examinations behind a screen in her small cottage.

Mary had placed a clay jar by the door where her patients could leave payment; there was no fixed fee for her services. Some women could afford more (courtiers also saw her, because she was so skilled), and others could not afford to pay anything. Often, her patients paid in goods and services, such as candles, breads, shawls, laundry services, and so forth.

Christiane arrived at Mary's cottage and saw the midwife was attending to another woman. Feeling slightly nervous, she sat on a chair in front of the cottage and enjoyed the light breezes outside.

No more than ten minutes later, Mary ushered Christiane inside and asked, "Pregnancy check, right?"

The young woman nodded.

"Let's have a little look-see, shall we?" the midwife said mildly. She then instructed, "If you'll lie down on that bed behind the screen and take off your undergarment, I'll be right with you. I just want to scrub my hands first. Others might not think so, but it's important to keep things clean when you're a midwife, I say!"

Christiane removed her underclothes and lay on the bed. She was a little apprehensive and unsure of what to expect.

The midwife asked, "Now, my dear, when did you last have your courses?"

"Early July."

Mary appeared calculate in her head. "That would make you about nine or ten weeks along, then. We should be able to tell something today. Any pain, spotting, or nausea?"

"No pain or spotting," Christiane mentioned, "but the last few days, I've been really queasy."

"Ah, that happens. Let me do a quick exam and then we'll talk about ways to cope with the nausea." The midwife turned toward her work table and retrieved a small bottle. "I'm just going to put a little almond oil on my finger and insert it into your vagina. Then, with my other hand, I'll press on your lower abdomen to feel your uterus. I'll be able to determine how far along you are, roughly, by the size of your womb. Ready?"

"As I'll ever be," sighed Christiane.

As Mary performed the exam, she distracted Christiane with a couple of questions. "So, are you enjoying life in the castle?"

"It's quite different than what I'm used to, but it's fun getting to know so many new people and working with Gaius."

"Mmm…good." The midwife removed her hands from her patient and turned to her wash basin to clean up.

"And how do you think Percival will react when he gets the news that he's about to become a father?"

"Definitely?" Christiane asked.

"Absolutely!" Mary replied. "Just as I thought, you're about eight or nine weeks along. That means we're looking at a spring baby. Sometime in April, most likely. Congratulations!"

"He'll be so thrilled. _I'm _thrilled!" Christiane exclaimed, with a tear in her eye.

"Unless you have any problems, you can come see me once a month for the first six months." Mary then cautioned, "You're free to go and share the good news with your husband. Though you may want to wait until you've reached twelve weeks before you share the information with others. Most pregnancies that end in miscarriage occur before twelve weeks. There's no reason to think that'll happen to you, but it's just something to keep in mind."

The midwife leaned over and hugged Christiane, then began to tidy up. As she did so, Mary suggested, "About the nausea, some ginger tea in the morning and a bit of stale bread can help with that. Really, any time you feel stomach upset coming on, a spot of ginger tea can help."

Christiane thanked Mary, collected her belongings, and dropped two gold coins into the woman's jar, which was very generous payment.

By the time Christiane returned to the castle, Percival was already in training. She did _not_ want to be one of those wives who interrupted her husband's work, so she chose to watch from a safe distance and would perhaps speak to her husband during his break time.

Christiane stood well off to the side, behind a short stone wall near the woods at the edge of the training field. Percival's physique was unmistakable, as he was close to a foot taller than some of the nights. Plus, those massive arms and a broad chest were hard to miss. She recognized him immediately, shirtless, fighting Ulrich quite aggressively with the quarterstaff. Possibly with unnecessary aggression. Well, she wasn't a knight and judging their training methods was outside of her purview.

Ulrich took a forceful, direct hit to the ribs from her husband's staff and the young knight promptly collapsed into the dirt with a loud thud, knocking the wind out of him. As the prostrate man wheezed on the ground, another young knight gave him a hand-up. Percival turned his back without an offer of assistance, proclaiming loudly that Ulrich needed to "toughen up."

Gwaine called for a break, and Percival finally noticed his wife was there at the edge of the field. He jogged over to Christiane's side.

"Do you have good news?" Percival asked his wife excitedly.

"I do. I'm about eight or nine weeks along. The baby will arrive in April."

Percival swept her off her feet and let out a whoop before he planted a solid kiss on her lips.

"Percival! We need to keep things quiet for another few weeks," Christiane instructed. "Just to be safe."

"Damn. How am I supposed to do that? I want to shout it from the ramparts!" he bellowed as he placed her back on terra firma with care.

"Shhhh! No, no. In three weeks we can tell people."

"Fine. At least let me tell Gwaine."

"All right," Christiane acquiesced. "I'll need to tell Gaius, too, just in case I need to take extra breaks or if I get a little queasy."

She could see Percival already starting to look concerned.

"That's perfectly normal, and should subside in a few weeks," she explained, holding up her hand.

"Since I have to train with Gaius late tonight, I'm going to rest for a little bit now. I won't be in until much later, and you'll be dead asleep, so I'll see you in the morning." Christiane leaned up and kissed Percival's cheek.

"I love you, Wife," he called out as she walked toward the castle.

Christiane blew him a kiss. "And I, you," she said with a wink.

Still, she wondered why her husband had been so incredibly harsh with Ulrich. He was normally so patient with the new recruits, and she felt a little unsettled by his behavior.

Percival strode back toward training, looking pleased. Gwaine stepped in front of him and asked, "What was that display all about?"

"You can't say anything to anyone yet," Percival whispered conspiratorially. "Christiane's with child."

"Ha! Congratulations, man. I won't say a word. Just think, a couple of months ago, you barely knew how to use that thing," Gwaine joked, gesturing toward Percival's crotch.

"Oh?" the large knight responded. "I_ do_ know how to use my fist!" he called out, chasing Gwaine across the field.

XXXX

Unfortunately, it didn't take long for Christiane and Percival to experience their first major conflict as a married couple.

Lady Elora still approached Percival frequently, always too eager and overly-familiar during their interactions, which the man endeavored to keep as brief as possible. Percival found her rather shallow, unpleasant, and far too forward. The final straw had been when Elora pretended to trip in front of Percival. Being a knight, he felt duty-bound to assist her. But as he helped her upright, Elora tried to slide her hand down the front of his trousers. When she saw that Percival was becoming angry, she said it was an "accident," and she was merely trying to right herself. Percival finally told her kindly but firmly that he was married and wasn't interested in her attention. The insulted young courtier seemed quite put-out, and stormed off in a huff.

But rather than move on, she determined that Percival was to be her conquest. She didn't care that he was married; Elora wanted the strapping knight in her bed. In the meantime, she'd slept with a variety of men, but she'd become bored and restless. Manipulating men into her bed was a game and she didn't care who got hurt in the process.

In her chambers, Elora discussed her dilemma with Bessie, her fairly simple-minded friend. The two young women sat on Elora's lavishly-appointed bed.

"I'm trying to figure out how to get Percival naked," Elora commented in a bored tone, examining her nails.

Uncomprehending, Bessie questioned, "Why him? He's married and there are plenty of other single and willing knights."

"True. But have you ever seen him during sword training, shirtless? The man is like a piece of art. And since he's big, I'll bet other parts of him are pretty damn big, too. I want to get my hands on that cock!" the courtier declared with a callous gleam in her eye.

Bessie gasped. "Elora! Really?"

"Yes. And I have a plan. Hear me out..."

Bessie listened to her friend's scheme with rapt attention, and then warned, "If this doesn't work out, there's going to be lots of trouble.

"I'm not really worried about it. After all I don't think he'll be able to resist these," said Elora as she gestured toward her ample breasts. "I just need to figure out when Christiane is next working with Gaius at night. Then, I'll act," she noted with a devious smirk.

Elora quickly determined Christiane was working late that very evening. It only took sweet-talking one guard for information, making promises to him she had no intention of keeping.

At midnight, Elora left her chambers clad in her blue traveling cloak, with nothing on underneath. She gingerly opened the door to Percival and Christiane's chambers. The young courtier peered inside, just to confirm the man was there alone, and asleep. She'd heard from the many knights and guards with whom she'd had sex that Percival slept like the dead; she was counting on that.

She entered the room carefully and crept to the bed. Elora observed that Percival slept shirtless and she wondered if he was totally naked underneath the bed sheets. But tonight would not be the night for sex (unless he was willing, but that was doubtful). Elora removed her shoes and her traveling cloak, depositing them delicately on a chair. Ever so quietly, she slipped into the bed. The man didn't stir, not even a twitch.

As luck would have it, Percival slept near the window, allowing Elora to be closer to the door, and in full-view once Christiane arrived home. The naked woman pulled the covers down to her hips, exposing her large breasts, so Christiane would get an eyeful as the moment she entered the chamber.

Elora's grand scheme was for Christiane to see the courtier in bed with Percival, assume the man was having an adulterous affair, and leave him. Sure, Percival would be angry initially, but eventually, the knight would want Elora for himself; she was certain of it.

Roughly an hour later, Christiane entered her chamber following her late-evening training with Gaius. It had certainly been a long and challenging night. The healer-in-training had completed her first stitches after half-a-dozen men had engaged in a drunken brawl outside of the tavern. Learning to stitch well on human skin was an exhausting and stressful process, and she was looking forward to simply collapsing into bed. Instead, she was immediately assaulted by the sight of Lady Elora in bed with her husband, and the woman was naked.

At first, Christiane was stunned into a horrified silence and simply stared at the scene before her in complete shock. Then, she covered her mouth with her hands and screamed; this was her worst nightmare come true, finding her husband in bed with another woman. That shriek was enough to wake Percival. He was disoriented for a moment, then realized a woman was in his bed, and that woman wasn't his wife.

He sat bolt-upright. "What the fuck is this?" he roared at Elora. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Elora feigned surprise. "Percival, why are you acting like this? After we were…intimate," she said demurely.

Percival had never struck a woman in his life and it took every shred of self-control for him to refrain from belting her. He could only imagine how absolutely horrible this scene must look to his wife.

Christiane began to cry, then scream, "How could you do this? _Now_?" She held onto the doorframe to steady herself. The sight of another woman in her bed next to her husband made her feel faint.

Oblivious to the fact he was clad only in his drawers, Percival jumped up and told his wife, "I swear to you, I had no idea she was here!"

"Oh, God!" Christiane screamed and then fled from the room.

She flew right past Gwaine in the corridor, who had woken with all of the commotion. Gwaine wasn't sure if he should go after Christiane or see what happened in her chambers; he opted to go to the chambers.

Gwaine couldn't believe the sight that met his eyes when he entered his friends' dimly-lit room. Percival ran around frantically, trying to collect his clothing, all the while screaming at Lady Elora. The courtier stood there totally naked, arms crossed over her bosom, pouting.

"What's all this?" Gwaine demanded.

Nearly apoplectic with rage, Percival yanked up his trousers and jammed his boots onto his feet, declaring, "This fucking bitch showed up in my bed, naked! You know nothing wakes me, so I never heard a thing. Christiane walked in, and now she thinks I'm fucking this whore! I have to go find my wife."

Gwaine was in utter shock. He had never heard Percival use coarse language in front of a woman, or speak of a woman in such a way. But the man was right; Elora was a well-known bitch, always causing trouble and sleeping around.

Gwaine stepped toward Elora and said, with disgust, "Cover yourself, woman. No one wants to look at you." She complied reluctantly, wrapping herself in her cloak.

Gwaine then turned to Percival and told his friend, "I'll keep her here until you retrieve your wife and this little witch explains the truth, which she _will_ do." Gwaine cast Elora a threatening glance.

Percival didn't want to waste extra time finding a clean shirt, so he ran from the castle clad in trousers and partially-buckled boots, hoping to catch up with his wife. Percival was sure Christiane was headed for Carina's home, and he moved for the cottage at top-speed. The desperate husband reached the road and could see Christiane was almost at her friend's doorstep, and knew once his wife reached the cottage, she'd lock herself inside and never allow him entry.

"Please, Christiane, wait!" he bellowed, determined to reach her.

She ignored him completely, ran right into Carina's home, slammed the door behind her and bolted it fast. Percival jogged toward the house, only to come vis-à-vis with Will, holding his freshly-sharpened sword.

"I hear my daughter running down the street, crying, shutting herself inside Carina's home. And here you are, running after her wearing no shirt. Boy, didn't I tell you I'd cut off your damn bollocks if you hurt her?" The angry father took a step toward Percival and rested the deadly point of his sword against the crotch of his son-in-law's trousers. Clearly, he wasn't joking.

Percival knew he could disarm Will in a second, but his life was already miserable enough at the moment. The last thing the knight needed to do was injure his new father-in-law.

"I promise you, I did nothing wrong. Will you give me a moment to explain?" the younger man pleaded.

Will continued to glare at Percival, itching to make good on his promise to remove a precious part of the man's anatomy. Instead, Will lowered his weapon slowly. "I suppose I'll give you a moment. Just come on inside of my house and tell me what in the devil is going on."

Percival wanted to insist that he had to get to Christiane and explain everything, immediately, but he realized talking to her father first might be helpful. He followed Will inside and took a seat at the dining table. The knight explained about Elora's devious and shameful behavior, all the while becoming very choked up and looking extremely upset. At the end of Percival's story, a single tear slipped from his eye, and he brushed it away quickly, hoping his father-in-law hadn't noticed. He didn't want the older man to think he was both a crybaby and a philanderer.

Will scratched his beard, thoughtful for a moment, before the man announced, "I never liked that little tart. I believe you, son."

Rising from his seat, Will quickly suggested, "Why don't we walk over to Carina's and see if we can sort this out?"

Will led a still-shirtless Percival across the road to Carina's cottage and knocked on the front door. Without waiting for an answer, Will announced that he was there with Percival. The two men heard some mumbling from inside of the cottage, then Carina stated, from behind the closed door, "Master Will, you can come in, but not Percival. He'll have to wait outside. I'll come out and talk to him."

She unlatched the door and traded places with Will. Tiny Carina glared at Percival furiously. "I just promised my best friend that this was a huge misunderstanding, and you have some reasonable explanation for it. You had better tell me that's the case, because I honestly cannot _believe_ that you would do such a thing to her." She looked even more threatening than Will, though she held no weapon, with her angry eyes narrowed and her small fists balled at her sides.

Percival responded immediately. "Of course, you know that I would never do such a thing to my wife. I love her more than anything. Just give me a minute or two to explain." A chagrined Percival then launched into the ugly and embarrassing story once again.

Carina shook her head. "That girl really is a strumpet. I believe you; I can see in your eyes that you're telling the truth. Let me go inside for a few minutes and see if I can convince Christiane to go back up to the castle with you. Hopefully, that horrid tramp Elora will confess."

Since it was so late at night, the streets were mercifully quiet. Percival was relieved by this fact, because he couldn't imagine having to explain to passers-by why he was leaning against Carina's cottage in the middle of the night, half-dressed as he was.

Five minutes passed. Percival heard voices behind the door, but could not make out what they were saying. The only thing he focused on was Christiane's voice, thick with pain and sadness, which broke his heart. Finally, Christiane, Will, and Carina came outside. Christiane was unable to look her husband in the eye.

"Time for me to head home," Will stated gruffly. "I think all of you can sort it out from here," he said as he slapped Percival on the back with what seemed to be a bit of extra force.

"Christiane, I beg you..." Percival started, looking at his wife's red-rimmed eyes, wanting to cry himself.

Carina interrupted. "Let's just all walk up to the castle quietly, and discuss everything once we get there."

Christiane and Carina walked ahead of Percival, Carina, with her arm around her friend, bolstering the woman. Percival felt ashamed, though he'd done nothing wrong.

Once the group had arrived at Percival and Christiane's quarters, they saw Elora sitting in a chair, looking thoroughly miserable, while Gwaine rested his head upon the table. It was, after all, very late at this point.

Gwaine sat upright immediately. "The Lady Elora has something she'd like to say," Gwaine said harshly, glaring at the young woman with anger.

Eyes cast downward, the courtier explained her plan, how Percival had no idea she was in the room, and that she was sorry. It appeared as if the woman was making a genuine apology.

"I was jealous, Christiane. I'm sorry. You have a handsome, good knight for a husband and I...I really have no one."

Percival was still seething, and wanted to tell the woman off. But instead of flying into another rage, he watched as his wife moved close to Elora. Christiane gently placed her hand on the woman's shoulder, and said, "I forgive you. It must be awful to feel so desperate and alone."

Elora turned and leaned into Christiane's arms. "I'm so sorry!" She wept, as Christiane stroked her hair in sympathy. "I promise, I will never do such a shameful thing again."

"I think it's best we all part for the night and get some sleep," suggested Christiane.

Percival took Gwaine aside for a moment and whispered, "I know you had something to do with her confession and apology."

"I told her I'd spread the truth that she gave three knights rashes on their cocks," Gwaine whispered back. "I suggested if people found out, no one would have anything to do with her, and she might as well leave the kingdom now. That made her see reason."

Everyone returned to their own quarters, and finally, Christiane and her husband were alone, standing awkwardly in the middle of their chambers. They both began speaking at the same time.

"You go first," said Percival softly.

"Please understand why I was upset. I believe you, but the shock of seeing a naked woman in our bed was just horrible. Imagine if you had come home and saw me in bed with a naked man? I'm sure you would have thought the worst, too," Christiane explained.

"Of course," said Percival. He took three broad strides and pulled Christiane into his arms. "I would cut off my own hand before I dishonored you in such a way. You mean everything to me. Everything." He held her tightly, praying she truly believed him.

With extreme relief, Christine said, "I love you, Percival. Just lie here with me tonight, and we'll put this behind us."

The exhausted couple undressed and crawled into bed. They spent the remainder of the short night wrapped safely in each other's arms, exhausted, but hopeful.


	10. Chapter 10 Sir Ulrich

**A/N - Oh, that little witch Elora in chapter nine! What a devious one. I'm so glad Christiane and Percival sorted things out. And Christiane's expecting! Pretty exciting, isn't it? And our wonderful Percival is thrilled. **

**During chapter ten, Percival has to go away on a mission for a couple of weeks, and Ulrich's spending a good deal of time with Christiane. Uh oh! Should we worry? Once you've finished this chapter, you'll be about a third of the way through this tale. Thanks so much for sticking with me.**

Chapter 10 - Sir Ulrich

The following evening, in their quarters, Percival and Christiane shared a simple, late supper of poached eggs in trenchers[4] with buttered greens. All was forgiven, but the two were still a bit tentative around one another.

"I have some frustrating news," Percival announced as he finished chewing. "Bandits on the Northern Plains have become quite aggressive and Arthur needs to dispatch some of us there for two weeks, just as a show of force. But I have to leave tomorrow evening. I'm sorry," he stated with a trace of regret in his voice. "I know this is a bad time."

Christiane waved off his concerns. "This is your job; I understand."

Though hesitant, Percival said, "Before I leave, can we..."

"Yes," his wife answered decisively.

The couple abandoned their dinner and fell into bed. Percival removed Christiane's light wrap and nightgown with ease. On this night, he wanted to be slow and gentle with his wife. He shucked off his own clothing and spent a great deal of time caressing and kissing her body, her sweet lips, soft neck, and ever-so-slightly rounded lower abdomen.

When she moaned, "Percival, please," he eased inside of her as she gasped. He slowly withdrew, then ever-so-slowly inched back in, over and over. Christiane loved the slow, drawn-out way her husband moved within her, and she writhed beneath him with pleasure.

Once she'd found her release, Percival was determined she would do so again. He slid in-and-out of his wife gently and easily for quite a long time, until he felt she had recovered sufficiently. Then he quickened the pace of his thrusting, gripping her hair tightly in his hands, locking his lips with hers as they both moaned in absolute satisfaction.

"Sometimes, I can still hardly believe I'm lucky enough to have you in my bed," Percival said softly to his wife as they recuperated from their love making.

They fell fast asleep until dawn. When they woke, the two decided to spend what little time they had left taking Aethon to Glas Lake so they might enjoy a quiet, early-morning breakfast of their favorite bread and fruit spreads.

"This place will always hold so many memories for me," Christiane told Percival as she munched on her food at the lakeside.

"Like the first time you saw my..."

"Percival!" She laughed. "Well, that, too."

Percival turned the conversation to more serious matters. "I'm going to be worried about you while I'm gone," he admitted. "Now that you're with child, please take it easy, and make sure you get plenty of rest and drink ginger tea if you need it."

"I will, don't worry. Wait a minute!" Christiane exclaimed. "I never said anything about ginger tea. How could you possibly know?"

"I'm a good guesser?" Percival answered with a slight wince. Christiane glared at her husband. "All right, all right. I went to go see the midwife myself. I only wanted to know how I can best support you. And she told me to help out as much as possible, don't give you any extra stress, and make sure our chambers are well stocked with ginger tea. Which they are now. I hid a large jar in the wardrobe for you."

"You are the kindest, gentlest, most wonderful husband," she said as she leaned across the blanket to kiss him.

"Try to remember that the next time I act a fool," he said with a small smile.

XXXX

Percival had departed for the Northern Plains the previous day. Meanwhile, Christiane busied herself in Gaius's sizable quarters at his workbench, arranging and cataloging tinctures. The physician was brilliant, but he often let organization fall by the wayside, since his skilled services were constantly in demand and left him with little down time. As it was, he was in the Lower Town, coping with the spread of some digestive illness.

Disrupted from her work by a knock on the door, Christiane went to answer it. She found Sir Ulrich standing in the doorway, shifting from foot-to-foot uncomfortably, scratching his red, blotchy, and blistered neck and face furiously. Though he clearly had an ugly case of wild parsnip rash, it didn't hide his good looks. Christiane finally noticed he was solidly built, with nearly-black, wavy hair, dark stubble on his jaw, and vividly blue eyes.

"I am so sorry to bother you," said Sir Ulrich. "I was told I could find Gaius here and he might help me with this." He gestured toward his rash-covered body. "I know you train with him, but I didn't expect to see you here. This is embarrassing. I feel like I'm on fire today! Itchy fire!"

Christiane giggled. "Nonsense; it's no bother. It's good to see you again." She took stock of his appearance once more, this time, focusing on the irritations. "Let me guess - a day or two ago, you did tracking exercises in the Forest of Ascetir."

"Exactly!" Ulrich exclaimed with a broad smile. "Though it appears as if I missed the wild parsnip entirely. Clearly it didn't miss me."

"Please come in," Christiane said as she gestured toward the interior of the infirmary. "Gaius is making rounds today, but if you trust me, I'd be happy to treat you."

Though he wished he looked better, Ulrich agreed. The young man was grateful to be treated by this happy, smiling, beautiful woman whom he noticed upon his arrival to Camelot a couple of weeks ago. And if truth be told, he had thought of quite frequently since.

"Have a seat," offered Christiane. "I'll need you to take off your chainmail and gambeson. And your shirt, if you would."

Before taking a seat, Ulrich carefully removed his chainmail, padding, and tunic as to not further irritate his prickling skin.

Christiane glanced at him as she prepared the salve for his rashes and observed that his broad chest was dusted with dark hair and his arms were muscular and well-defined. He wasn't quite as handsome as Percival, she noted, but he was a fine looking young man and she was certain plenty of the ladies of Camelot would be eager to make the acquaintance of this new knight.

While Christiane poured and measured remedies, Ulrich once again admired her luscious curves, her beautiful, fresh skin, and a smile that could bring a man to his knees.

"Oh, this damn itching!" Ulrich cursed as he waited, then amended his statement with, "I'm sorry. It's not gentlemanly to swear in front of a lady."

Christiane chuckled. "Please, I'd be cursing far worse," she said as she shook a clay bottle vigorously.

"Apply the contents of this larger bottle at least four times daily. It's tallow, buttermilk, vinegar, peppermint, and a touch of salt. I know it sounds strange, but it works well. Though it stings for a moment when you first use it."

She held up a second, smaller bottle. "This is valerian, very potent, only to be taken at bedtime; just four drops. I know how difficult it can be to sleep with hogweed rash this widespread. Do you mind if I apply the salve now?" she offered. "I just want to make sure it's effective for you."

To have this pretty creature touch him was like a dream. "Sure, of course. It's rather difficult to get the mess on my back, anyway."

"I'm sorry, it's going to be quite cold," the young healer cautioned.

First, Christiane applied the treatment to Ulrich's face, which stung for a second, then almost immediately helped cease the maddening itching.

"That is _so_ much better," he said with relief. "You're a miracle worker."

She laughed and applied the salve to his back and stomach. Unfortunately, her soft, gentle hands rubbing his skin lightly caused a bit of a tightening of his loins. In order to hide this fact, he shifted and tried to cross his legs.

"Are you uncomfortable? Was I too rough?" Christiane asked.

"No, no, it's fine," Ulrich answered quickly. "I just, er, I need to use the privy. I'll be right back."

He rushed off into the corridor. The young man didn't need to use the privy, so he marched down the hallway, breathing deeply, conjuring images of sweaty, smelling, farting knights converging in the armory after a vigorous workout. That helped to calm his lust. He finally returned to the infirmary.

"Do you think you could lie down here on the examination table so I can finish applying the salve? It'll be easier." Christiane said.

_Oh, dear God_, Ulrich thought. _Then again, she's a healer, and I'm sure she's seen arousal before. No big deal. But her husband would want me dead._

"Of course."

He positioned himself on the table and Christiane applied the salve lower-down on his flat stomach.

"Do you have any rash below your waistline? If so, I'll leave that up to you!" she said with a slight grin.

"No!" said Ulrich a little too loudly and immediately. "No, I don't. Thank goodness for small miracles."

Christiane noted, "It could still spread to that area, and if it does, you can use the salve on it. It's a very safe concoction."

As she finished the application and wiped off her hands on a cloth, she asked, "Can you stop by tomorrow so I can take a look and see if you've begun to heal?"

Sir Ulrich tried to shake off the fantasy of Christiane of applying the ointment to his nether regions.

While he dressed hastily, Ulrich replied, "Definitely. After training. Thank you so much."

As he took his leave with his medicines in-hand, Ulrich knew he'd spend the night in bed awake, not because of his hogweed rash, but because he'd be thinking about a beautiful, kind, and married healer. And that was not a good thing.

XXXX

The following evening, after a brutal training session, Ulrich returned to Gaius's chambers to see Christiane, as requested. Once again, she asked him to remove his chainmail, gambeson, and tunic.

"Ah, that looks much better already," she noted, inspecting his skin closely. "The salve must be drying it up; excellent. The blisters are gone and the rash is less angry-looking. Did you sleep well last night?" she inquired. "With the valerian?"

_After I grabbed my cock and stroked it vigorously, all the while thinking of you._

"Yes, it worked quite well, thank you. I'm so grateful," Ulrich said, giving no hint of his internal commentary.

Returning the young knight's tunic, Christiane said, "I didn't forget the invitation I extended to you for a meal. Percival's on a mission for the next couple of weeks, but I'm having supper this evening in the garden with some ladies, knights, and Carina, my friend. Would you care to join us?"

_Oh, please, no. Why is she so kind? Why is she doing this to me? I know she's only trying to be friendly, but I must decline!_

"That sounds great," Ulrich responded. "It'll be a good break from dining in my shared chambers with Sir Michael, who is a bit of a slob."

Christiane laughed robustly. "I can imagine. I'll see you in a few hours, then."

XXXX

Preparing for supper, Ulrich washed, applied fresh salve, and dressed. And he cursed himself for being a dolt. He was grateful Michael was out that evening so he was free to talk to himself. The young man peered at his reflection in the mirror.

"You're an idiot," he whispered to himself. "You're going to end up heartbroken, miserable, and alone if you keep up this foolishness. Never mind that, you'll be dead, because Percival will kill you. Just go find someone else, damn it!"

Ulrich sighed at himself in disgust, and left for the gardens.

XXXX

The castle gardens were beautiful, with vibrant green grass, intricate stone paths, large benches, and shade provided by many mature fruit trees, not to mention the dazzling array of lavish plants and flowers. Numerous colorful wool blankets dotted the grounds of the gardens; it appeared as if everyone was going to eat supper picnic-style.

Immediately upon his arrival, Ulrich noticed Christiane helping some servants set up. She looked so fresh and pure, wearing a pink dress to match the faint blush on her cheeks. She wore her hair pinned up, but a few dark tendrils had worked loose, blowing freely in the evening breeze. The young healer stopped her activity for a moment to pick up a crying toddler to soothe him. Christiane touched the little one's nose and made a silly face; he giggled in return before she placed him down on the ground, and the young boy subsequently scrambled back to his mother. Christiane's kindness and joy were palpable.

Ulrich worried he was going to be sick; he thought he might be in love with her. He hardly knew the woman, but was certain felt the keen sting of love. What the hell was he going to do?

The young knight approached Christiane, and she broke into a wide smile and hugged him.

"I'm so glad you're here. Carina's at the yellow blanket and we've saved a place for you. It looks like the food's ready now and I'm absolutely starving!"

All in attendance loaded up their plates with roast capon, rabbit poached in ginger sauce, spiced cabbage, bread, cheese, and various fritters; ale, cider, and mead flowed freely. Christiane, Carina, and Ulrich returned to their blanket, plates full.

After the three had adjusted into comfortable positions on the picnic blanket, Christiane made introductions.

"Carina, meet Sir Ulrich, the new knight of whom I spoke."

"A pleasure to meet you, miss," Ulrich said, taking Carina's hand and kissing it.

Carina sighed with admiration. "Such manners! Can I take you home with me?" They all laughed.

Carina then asked boldly, "What kind of knight are you? A carouser? A fighter? Seducer? Book-reader?"

"I'm definitely not a carouser, fighter, or seducer," Ulrich answered with a chuckle. "I spend most of my free time reading, studying, and doing archery. Shooting is a great passion of mine."

"Oh, Christiane and I have always wanted to learn archery! Do you think you could teach us?" Carina asked with excitement.

_Just what I don't need, _Ulrich thought to himself._ Being close to Christiane, close enough to smell her hair, touch her waist... _

"I'd be honored. Any time."

"Do you have time tomorrow?" Carina asked with an enthusiastic gleam in her eye.

With a faint smile on his lips, Ulrich said, "I do happen to have a day off from training tomorrow."

Bristling with excitement, Carina asked the new, young knight, "I know Christiane's free. Can you teach us, then?"

Christiane interrupted, "Maybe poor Ulrich would like a day to relax for once! You know how hard the king and Sir Leon work the new recruits."

"No, no," Ulrich responded quickly. "I love teaching archery. If you can meet me on the shooting range directly after breakfast, that would be great."

Carina rolled her eyes, suddenly less motivated, and whined, "That's a bit early, but I'll try to make it."

"I'll be there," Christiane promised. "I can't wait to show Percival that I can shoot!"

That's not exactly what Ulrich had hoped to hear, but for now, just knowing he'd have a chance to spend a little time with Christiane was enough.

Dinner continued, filled with conversation and laughs, followed by a dessert of strawberry tarts and spice cake. During the meal, the ladies learned that Ulrich had been tutored in literature and Greek, and had an older brother who traded for a living, much like Carina's father.

The evening wore on, and it became cooler around sunset. Carina suddenly declared, "I'm fat with food, a little drunk, and tired. I'm heading home. See you all in the morning!" She rose to her feet and teetered slightly.

"I'll escort you home," Ulrich insisted as he stood up quickly. He recognized the tiny woman was in no condition to wander home alone.

"Oh, that's nice of you, Ulrich. Christiane, will you come, too?" Carina asked a little drunkenly.

Christiane laughed and said she'd come along as well. The trio began the short walk toward Carina's cottage, with the intoxicated woman carrying on loudly about how she was "done" with Sir Michael, as he spent "too much time with too many different ladies." And with finality, Carina declared theatrically, "Anyway, he's a PIG!"

Christiane realized her friend was a drunker than she'd originally thought, so Christiane and Ulrich escorted Carina inside and tucked her safely into bed.

"She's normally not quite this bad," Christiane explained as she adjusted a blanket around Carina carefully. "Oh, who am I kidding? She's often this bad! But in a very lovable way."

Ulrich laughed quietly. "I like her. She seems quite spirited."

"She is, and a good friend," said Christiane fondly.

Ulrich and Christiane walked back to the castle, talking about their evening, the food, and Sir Michael. They finally bid each other goodnight, and went to their separate chambers.

XXXX

The next morning arrived, sunny and warm, and Ulrich visited the armory early to select appropriate bows and arrows, then walked to the shooting range in order to set up. Christiane arrived promptly after breakfast, looking fresh-faced and well-rested, unlike Ulrich, who had slept very little, tossing and turning the entire night due to his confusion and frustration over his feelings for this woman.

"Ulrich, you look a little tired," Christiane observed as she approached. "Did the valerian not work last night?"

"Oh, no it was fine. I just had some bad dreams."

"Ah. I have to tell you, there's no way Carina's going to show up at this hour, with a hangover no less. We might as well begin."

Ulrich laughed. "Of course. Let's start out with the basics."

Ulrich patiently taught Christiane the proper archery stance: sideways, with feet roughly shoulder-width apart, and weight distributed evenly on each foot. He positioned her head so her chin was rotated correctly over her bow arm, which meant touching the smooth, pale skin of her cheek. The worst part was when he needed to touch her hips in order to make sure they were tucked and her back was flat. The young man wanted to leave his hands there a moment longer, but resisted.

In that instant, out of nowhere, Ulrich hated Percival for being lucky enough to have such a lovely woman in his life and in his bed; jealousy consumed him. Still, he carried on teaching as if nothing was wrong. He demonstrated to his pupil how to nock the arrow, pause, focus, and shoot.

"Whenever you're ready, go ahead and loose," Ulrich instructed her.

Christiane took her first shot. The arrow hit the target, fairly high, but it pierced the mark with a solid and satisfying thud.

"That's excellent," Ulrich praised her. "The first time, actually, the first many times, most people drop the arrow, it hits the ground, or misses the target by a wide margin. You did really well. I'm impressed."

"This is so much fun! Let's practice more!" Christiane exclaimed, obviously enjoying her newly-discovered hobby.

The two spent the better part of the morning shooting until they were both famished.

"I need a break; I am so hungry," Christiane informed her young instructor. "Do you want to wander down to the market with me to get something to eat?"

Ulrich started to say, "Sure," when Christiane stepped backward while returning her bow to the rack. She caught her heel in a ditch and started to fall. Ulrich could see his pupil was going to hit the ground and reached for her, stepping in the same hole, losing his own balance. Christiane ended up on her back, while Ulrich fell on top of her awkwardly, his face planted right in her bosom.

He leapt up, completely embarrassed, worried that Christiane might think he'd purposely landed on her in such a way. Once he composed himself, he extended his hand to help his pupil up. "I...I have no idea what to say," Ulrich stammered.

Christiane giggled, finding the whole scenario rather amusing. "Please, don't worry; I'm not a graceful woman. It was actually rather funny." She rose with her instructor's assistance and dusted off her dress. "Come on, let's go eat," she said. "I'll buy you something nice since you were so good to teach me this morning."

"No, I couldn't allow that. Please let _me _pay for inadvertently assaulting you!"

They both started laughing, and Christiane said, "If you insist."

Wandering along through the busy streets of Camelot to the market, Christiane inquired, "Ulrich, can I ask you a personal question?"

"Of course."

"Why don't you have a woman? A nice-looking man like you, smart, polite, educated, destined to be a great knight..."

"I'm not sure about all that," he said with a shrug while looking straight ahead, feeling a bit embarrassed but his companion's flattery. "I suppose I just haven't been lucky in that regard."

"We shall have to fix that!" Christiane told him as she reached over and squeezed his arm. "I'm certain I can find you a special young lady."

_I wish you wouldn't! _

"That sounds good. When the time is right, I'll let you know. Thank you."

"At least tell me what you look for in a woman so I can keep my eyes open," suggested Christiane.

Ulrich considered his words carefully. "Appearance-wise, I don't have a particular type. I find different women beautiful for different reasons. Though I want a woman who is kind, smart, and loving. Those qualities are most important to me."

"Oh, Ulrich, I don't think you could possibly be any sweeter," Christiane told him honestly as they continued on to the market. "But don't want to wait too long, otherwise all of the good ones will be gone," she joked.

She then changed the topic to their upcoming meal. "I think I want a cheesecake for lunch. Does that sound ridiculous?"

Ulrich was preparing to tell her he thought that was a fantastic idea when Christiane suddenly stopped, wiped her brow, grabbed onto Ulrich's shoulder, and then fainted. He yelled her name, noticing how devastatingly pale she'd become, absolutely terrified and unsure why she'd collapsed. Immediately, people came to their aid, but Ulrich had swiftly lifted Christiane into his arms and took off for Gaius's chambers. As he jogged, she came-to.

"I felt so dizzy. Did I faint? I must have. Put me down, I can walk now."

"Ha, not likely. I'm taking you straight to Gaius."

"No, I...I need to see the midwife."

Ulrich insisted, "I'm taking you straight to the Court Physician! Unless, wait, do you need the midwife because you're..."

"I didn't mean to keep it from you. But it's still fairly early on, so Percival and I decided we wouldn't tell anyone for a few more weeks. Until it became more obvious."

Ulrich's steps did not falter, though the news made his knees weak. Why should he be at all surprised? She was married and happily. But for some reason, this declaration of pregnancy felt so final; as if now, he could never have her. Which was ridiculous, because he realized he had no chance to win her heart before this news, either. Even so, it didn't hurt any less.

He made a concerted effort to keep his emotions in check and said, "That's wonderful news. I'm sure you and Percival are very happy." He slowed his pace. "If you can tell me which way to the midwife's home, I'll take you there straight away."

Christiane gave him directions; fortunately, the woman's home was nearby. Ulrich arrived and tapped on the cottage door lightly with his foot, as his arms were occupied. Mary appeared at the doorway immediately.

"Now, what's all this?" the midwife inquired with concern, stepping backward in order to allow her visitors entry.

Ulrich carried Christiane over to the bed that he assumed was set aside for patients, and placed her down gently. He explained, "We'd just finished up doing some archery and were headed down to the market for a bite of food. On the way there, Christiane fainted."

"I see," said Mary, sizing-up the young man. "And who are you, may I ask?"

"Oh I'm very sorry; please forgive my lack of manners. I'm Ulrich, one of the new knights. And Christiane's friend."

Mary studied Christiane's appearance and took the pregnant woman's pulse. "Let me take a guess. You were out in the sun all morning, you didn't pause to drink, and you had an insubstantial breakfast. Tell me if I'm close."

Christiane cast her gaze downward. As someone who worked in medicine, she should have realized drinking and eating proper meals was very important when one is with child.

"You're right, Mary, I should know better. Dehydration must have made me faint."

"That it did!" Mary scolded. "You are to drink extra water every day. Even more if you're outside in the sun or exerting yourself. Don't go more than an hour without taking at least a sip. And certainly do not skip meals!" the woman admonished. "Now, if this friendly, young knight would be so good as to fetch that pitcher of water and a cup," she motioned toward the dining table, "once you have finished its contents, you may go home."

As Christiane drank, the trio discussed the general news about Camelot, such as the new knights' training progress, some merchants due to arrive the following week, and the general anxiety over Morgana's old supporters' whereabouts and plans.

After Christiane finished her beverage, Mary presented her visitors with two thick slices of bread and ordered them to eat it on the way home.

Christiane dropped a coin into Mary's jar as she and Ulrich departed.

Ulrich was unsure what to say while they ambled home, because he was still reeling from the pregnancy news. He settled on, "So, do you feel scared, excited, or both?"

"A little of both," Christiane commented as she chewed on the bread slice and strolled slowly. "Delivery always seems scary."

"People always carry on about knights' bravery and strength, but I've always thought women are the strong ones. To carry and bring forth children, that takes real courage," the young man commented.

Charmed, Christiane said, "That is so sweet, Ulrich. You'll make a fine husband one day."

They arrived at the castle entryway. "If you're available, I'd love to do more archery," Christiane told her friend, then offered playfully, "and I promise to drink water, take more breaks in the shade, and not faint."

"I'm on night patrol for the next week, so mornings are good for me," said Ulrich, appreciating her attempt at humor.

"I have evening training this week, too. Tomorrow morning, then?" Christiane asked.

The young knight confirmed, "Tomorrow, it is."

XXXX

In the middle of the night, Christiane tossed and turned in bed, completely restless. She rose and felt compelled to see Ulrich; she didn't know why.

In a low-cut silken nightgown and her light wrap, she felt as if she were floating down the corridor and downstairs to his chambers.

Christiane rapped gently on his door. He answered and whispered, "I so hoped you would come," and then drew her inside his room.

Ulrich backed Christiane up against the now-closed door and carefully removed his visitor's wrap. The man slid his hands up and down the front of her gown, stopping to caress her breasts and press his mouth against hers. It felt quite foreign to Christiane, nothing like Percival's kiss, but she didn't stop Ulrich as he eased his tongue into her mouth.

"I must take you to my bed," Ulrich declared as he lifted the woman, carried her to his soft and inviting mattress and placed her down tenderly. He kicked off his breeches, lowered himself on top of Christiane, and parted her legs with his knees.

"Will you have me?" he asked huskily.

She nodded as Ulrich pushed into her gently with a sigh of contentment.

Christiane woke with a start in her own bed, flushed and abashed by her dream. Sex with Ulrich…ridiculous. She didn't even think of him in that way! She closed her eyes, attempting to force herself back to sleep, dismissing the dream and picturing her own husband safely back in their bed.

Christiane eventually fell into a deep, dreamless slumber.

* * *

><p>[4] Trenchers are somewhat-stale loaves of bread that are hollowed out and soak up the juicesgravies of the meal.


	11. Chapter 11 Percival's Struggle

**A/N - Was anyone freaking out at the end of chapter ten? "No, Christiane! What are you DOING?" Do you think something might happen between Christiane and Ulrich? He seems to be pretty smitten.**

**During chapter eleven, we'll finally see Queen Guinevere, and you will read about a significant confrontation (one with quite a bit of bad language), an upsetting loss, and SOMEONE will spend a little time in the dungeons.**

**As always, I adore you, my faithful readers. Also, I received a few reviews...my fist ones! They made me cry happy tears.**

Chapter 11 – Percival's Struggle

Christiane became quite adept at archery with Ulrich's guidance. She thoroughly enjoyed the sport and the two became fast friends. At least, in Christiane's eyes, they were simply friends and nothing more. The newlywed enjoyed her new friend's company and understood it could be hard adjusting to life in a new castle, especially when one knew few people. Unfortunately for Ulrich, with each passing moment, his feelings for Christiane grew stronger. Every time she mentioned her husband's name, it was like a dagger in his heart.

"I can't wait until Percival arrives home tomorrow. I've missed him so much," Christiane gushed after she and Ulrich had completed a morning of archery and snacked on apples while relaxing on a stone bench in the castle gardens.

"I'd imagine so," Ulrich responded with a bitter edge to his voice.

Sounding hurt, Christiane asked, "Why do you say that so harshly?"

"You're right. I'm sorry. It's just that I've really liked spending time with you and I know our meetings will be much more infrequent once your husband returns home."

Christiane nodded thoughtfully. "It's true, we won't have quite as much time to spend together, but we're friends and we'll make time."

She leaned forward to hug Ulrich. He could feel her breasts touching him; she smelled of sunshine and flowers. The young man wanted to beg her to come to his bed, tell her he would do anything he could to please her as many times as possible. In his fantasies, her lush body would warm his bed and she'd call out _his_ name in the throes of passion, not that damned husband of hers. Instead, he said, "Of course. Friends. Good friends."

They finished their snacks and retired to their separate chambers, one floor away from each other: Christiane on the fifth level and Ulrich on the fourth. If both had their windows open and it was a quiet day, they could probably yell to each other and hear with relative ease.

Half an hour after Christiane chose to take a brief nap, the chamber door burst open, and there stood Percival, freshly bathed and smiling, home a day early. "Surprise!" he called out, and vaulted into their bed.

"I can't believe you're here!" said Christiane, leaning over in bed to kiss her husband forcefully on the lips. "And a day early. It's so wonderful to have you home; I missed you terribly."

He returned the kiss, claiming her mouth with passion. No more words were needed. Clothing was discarded haphazardly and before long, Christiane climbed atop Percival and guided him inside of her; he was erect and ready. She moved on top of her husband with enthusiasm, clenching her muscles around him and driving the man mad. He held her hips to help move her up and down his length. With each movement she moaned, sighed, and finally screamed out Percival's name in ecstasy. Her passion finished him off instantly.

At first, while reclining in his bed, Ulrich thought he heard someone groaning, possibly hurt. It took him a few minutes to realize that the knights returned home from their mission early, his window was open, as was Christiane's, and what he heard was the object of his affection taking pleasure in her husband's body.

Still in bed, he clapped his hands over his ears, hoping that action would block out any and all sound. Once he thought it was safe, he removed his hands, only to hear the impassioned cry of, "Oh, Percival!"

Ulrich punched the stone wall beside his bed. As he did this, Michael entered their shared chambers and simply stared at his roommate, eyebrows raised.

"Just fuck off, will you?" Ulrich yelled, turning his back in anger, which was very unlike him.

Michael quietly strode over to his table, retrieved his chainmail, and left the room, mumbling under his breath, "Damn lunatic."

Ulrich groaned. What was so great about Percival? What made him such a phenomenal lover? The massive knight had probably stuck his cock in a hundred whores before he had Christiane! He probably _still _slept with whores. Ulrich bet that the man visited bawdy houses regularly, having sex with a dozen women in one night, not caring that he was married.

The young knight finally realized he was getting carried away with such wild thoughts, and they were only making him angrier and more frustrated.

He turned his focus back to Christiane. If only she would give him a chance, he could be a good lover, too. Not that he'd ever had the opportunity to take a woman to bed before. Ulrich was a virgin; what did he know? But he could learn! Perhaps he would ask Gwaine how to please women. After all, Gwaine loved to talk about his expertise in that area. Ulrich then wondered how he could convince Christiane to go to bed with him…

Flipping onto his stomach and burying his face into his pillow, the young knight felt as if he were going mad. If this kept up, he'd have to leave Camelot.

XXXX

Percival and Christiane were sprawled-out in bed, totally relaxed in their post-sex bliss. Percival spoke first.

"I missed you so. It was a horribly boring mission. The only excitement was eating overly-salted pottage every night."

He turned onto his side to face his wife, propping himself upright on his elbow. "How are you doing? Feeling well?"

"Other than some nausea in the middle of the night, I'm feeling quite well. But when that happens, I usually get up and step outside for some fresh air; then I feel much better."

"I hate to think of you feeling awful while you're carrying my child," Percival said as he reached out and played with his wife's hair. He then inquired, "Anything interesting happen while I was gone?"

Christiane replied, "Ulrich taught me some archery skills. I practiced with him while you were gone. I can't wait to show you soon; I've become quite good at it!"

At the mention of Ulrich spending time with his beloved Christiane, the hairs on the back of Percival's neck stood up. Rather than become irate, he determined he would simply take out his frustration on Ulrich the next day in training.

"I look forward to seeing that," Percival said carefully, not mentioning his concerns about Ulrich. "You know I'm not much of an archer; you're probably better than I!"

Christiane laughed at the thought.

Percival then rested his head carefully on her lower abdomen. "I think your belly has gotten a little bigger."

Christiane swatted at his head playfully. "Never say that to a woman! Even if she's with child."

"Why not?" Percival asked as he caressed the slight swell. "I can't wait to see you get big with my child. I love it, and I'll show you off to everyone!"

"Men!" Christiane sighed.

XXXX

Christiane and Percival shared a lovely supper of ham and onion cake, took a refreshing walk through the Lower Town, and ended their day with a lively game of chess. They chose to retire early and were both asleep within minutes.

Yet sometime in the middle of the night, Christiane woke up with nausea again. Once she realized it wasn't about to pass quickly, she rose, donned her traveling cloak, and stepped outside for some cool night air. She went her usual place by the battlements, which allowed her a view of the whole city.

Unfortunately, on this particular night, she felt more nauseous than usual. As a matter of fact, she worried she might vomit. The queasy young woman sat down on a nearby bench and clutched her stomach, waiting for the wave to pass.

Ulrich was unable to sleep and found himself wandering by the battlements as well. He was quite surprised when he rounded corner and saw Christiane sitting on a bench, hands pressed against her abdomen, looking awfully pasty. He rushed over to her.

"Are you all right?" he asked with concern.

She took a couple of slow, deep breaths to settle her stomach. "Yes," she answered. "I'm fine. Just a bit of nausea. Truthfully, quite a bit of nausea. Usually it hits me in the middle of the night, and I come out here to get a bit of air, then it goes away."

"I see," replied Ulrich. "Do you need Gaius? Or the midwife?"

"No, thank you. If I sit here for a little while, I'll probably feel better soon."

Taking a seat next to her on the bench, he asked, "Do you mind if I keep you company for a bit?"

Christiane replied, "That would be lovely."

She turned her face toward the night breeze, hoping it would help cool her and ease her discomfort.

"But I must ask, why are you awake at this hour? You're unarmed," she observed, "so I know that you're not on patrol."

"This is true. I just have a lot on my mind lately and sleep just doesn't seem to come easily."

Christiane looked somewhat concerned. "I'm your friend, Ulrich. You can trust me. Tell me what's bothering you."

Ulrich chuckled quietly, without humor. "I wish I could."

"Women trouble?" Christiane asked seriously.

"Something along those lines."

"I'm good at helping with these sorts of things. Why don't you just tell me?"

Ulrich studied her cautiously. He knew what he was about to do was horribly wrong and would likely change their friendship forever, and potentially get him killed. The young knight took her hand, gazed into her eyes, and said "I'm sorry, but I love you. And I swear, I will never do this again. Unless you ask me to."

He then leaned toward Christiane, but she was slightly shocked and confused by the way he moved toward her, unsure what he meant to do. She assumed he might be leaning in for a hug, but instead, Ulrich tenderly pressed his lips against hers. His mouth felt warm and soft, but in that moment, Christiane felt sad. She knew she had given him the wrong idea.

Christiane immediately placed her hands against Ulrich's chest, and pushed him away carefully.

"No, Ulrich. No. This cannot be. I love you as a friend, but nothing more. I'm very sorry if I led you to believe otherwise."

He shook his head. "You never misled me; not for a moment. It was selfish of me, but I simply had to let you to know how I feel."

As these events transpired, Percival had woken and found his bed empty. Concerned, he left the chamber and began to search for his Christiane. A good ten minutes later he wandered toward the castle battlements and saw Ulrich seated on a bench, kissing a woman.

And that woman was Percival's wife.

The furious husband thought he'd seen Christiane shove Ulrich away, but he was so blinded by rage that he couldn't be certain.

Percival stormed over to the two of them and hollered, "What the fuck is all of this?" fury punctuating every syllable.

Ulrich rose from the bench, waiting for Percival to kill him that instant. Unarmed, he knew he was no match for the massive, skilled knight.

Christiane stood up quickly and positioned herself in front of Ulrich.

"Percival please. This is just a misunderstanding. Ulrich misinterpreted my friendship. He knows that nothing can ever happen between us. Right?"

Ulrich nodded his head sadly in agreement.

"Why the fuck are you standing in front of him, defending him?" Percival roared at Christiane. He was no longer in his right mind; he was completely rattled by his unbearable fury.

"I just don't want you to do anything rash in a moment of anger that you'll regret later," Christiane responded calmly. For the first time ever, she saw fury in her husband's eyes and knew the best course of action was to remain as calm as possible, for all of their sakes. She'd heard stories of men killing others while in blind rages, and Percival had that look about him.

Ulrich began to explain to Percival that he had come across Christiane on the bench, looking ill, and wanted to offer his help. He then said that he was worried, because the young woman had fainted a couple of weeks prior.

Percival could barely comprehend what Ulrich was saying, as the blood was rushing through his ears.

"What the hell did you just say?" Percival shouted. "Wait, she fainted when she was with you? When?"

Ulrich explained, "One afternoon, after her archery lesson, she fainted, and I took her to the midwife."

Percival rounded on his wife and demanded fiercely, "Exactly how much time have you been spending with this son of a bitch?"

Christiane was shocked. Percival had never addressed her in such a way. She found herself unable to answer, and Ulrich spoke up to defend Christiane. But Percival interrupted, feeling murderous.

"Ulrich, shut the fuck up! Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you where you stand. With my bare fucking hands! Christiane," he commanded, "step aside."

"I will not!" she responded to her husband hotly. "You're behaving like a madman. Let's just go back to our chambers and talk this through, calmly."

For a split second, Percival considered forcing her aside. It would be so easy to do, and he could break Ulrich's neck in a second. Fortunately, he saw reason, if only for a moment. For the next words out of his mouth changed everything.

"How is it that this little bastard knows that you're pregnant, and hardly anyone else in the entire kingdom does?" Percival stepped forward and leaned in, nearly nose to nose with his wife. "Is this baby even mine?"

The moment the words fell from Percival's mouth, he regretted them. Terribly.

Ulrich tried to step around Christiane, and said to Percival, "That's way out of order, man."

Christiane put her arm in front of Ulrich and held him back. She drew her hand back as if to slap her husband, but instantly realized if she struck him, it was an act she could never undo. Instead, she jabbed her finger roughly into his chest and stated, "If you ever, ever speak to me in such a way again, I promise you, I will leave you and never return. I don't care how much I love you; you will _not_ treat me like this!"

She stormed off, outraged, shouting over her shoulder, "How dare you say such a horrid thing!"

Percival and Ulrich were left alone, simply standing at the battlements, face to face. "If I were you," Ulrich said, "I'd go after my pregnant and upset wife. You can kill me anytime."

"Touch my wife again, and you are a dead man," Percival growled, and spat at Ulrich's feet. He then chased after his wife, filled with shame and heartache.

Christiane was well ahead of Percival. She ran into their chambers, firmly bolted the door, and began collecting a day's worth of clothing and her pillow. When Percival arrived, he tried to gain entry, but to no avail.

"Please let me in," he nearly whined.

"No!" his angry wife answered firmly from behind the door. "I'm collecting some things and I am going to stay with Lady Lindara, the widow, tonight. She'll welcome my company."

"Please don't do this," Percival lamented. "I love you. Seeing Ulrich kiss you made me lose my mind for a moment. I'm sorry. Don't go," he begged. "Or, I'll go. I don't want you to have to sleep on a cot tonight."

His pleading was met with complete silence, so he continued. "I know the baby's mine," said Percival from the other side of the door, leaning his head against the solid wood as he spoke. "Of course it is. It was mad of me to say otherwise. Inexcusable."

After another minute of quiet, Christiane swung the chamber door open fiercely and faced her husband, announcing, "I'll return tomorrow night after you've had some time to think things over. But for now, I am leaving! Do not try to stop me!"

Of course, he could have stopped her, quite easily. But Percival had made enough of a mess of things and quietly stepped aside.

In a pleading tone, he asked, "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yes," she said, without a backward glance, carrying her possessions down the hallway.

Percival entered their chamber, head hanging with remorse. He crawled into bed, knowing he, Christiane, and Ulrich wouldn't get a moment's rest that night.

XXXX

Percival arrived at the training field the next morning, ill-rested and in a bad temper.

On the field, a well-recovered King Arthur informed the knights, "Today, we're going to practice hand-to-hand combat, no weapons. Senior knights, pair up with a newer man. I'll walk around to make suggestions and help. Remember, you're teaching these men, not trying to injure them!"

Percival marched over to Ulrich and banged him on the shoulder roughly. Ulrich didn't even need to turn around to know who was there.

All of the pairs took their places on the field. Percival removed his shirt; it was one less thing for his opponent to grab and his build usually intimidated others. Ulrich did the same. While the younger knight wasn't as huge as Percival, he was still very solidly-build and broad-chested, and had proven himself to be quite adept in hand-to-hand combat. But his opponent didn't care.

"Going to kill me right here on the field, in front of the king?" Ulrich questioned in a snarky tone.

Percival said nothing and lunged for the younger man. After a good few minutes of circling each other and avoiding punches, elbows, and grabs, finally, Percival swept Ulrich's feet out from underneath him, landing him flat on his back. As Percival bent down to grapple with the younger man, Ulrich kicked him away with both feet, knocking Percival on his side.

They both stood again; Ulrich took a swing, Percival blocked it, then dragged the younger knight down to the ground in a headlock. Percival violently flipped Ulrich onto his back and pinned him down by the neck. He drew his fist back, aiming for Ulrich's face, but before he could strike, he felt himself being pulled upright by three men, including King Arthur.

"What on _earth_ is going on here?" asked the king, frustration boiling in his blue eyes. Ulrich had been helped to his feet by some of his comrades, but he and Percival simply stood there, eyes cast downward, unwilling or unable to provide an answer. "As your king, I demand an answer. Now!"

"Sire, I kissed Percival's wife and professed my love to her," Ulrich said rapidly, embarrassed by his confession.

"Why would you do such a thing?" the king asked with disbelief.

"It was very wrong of me, disrespectful, and I should have kept my feelings to myself." He turned to face Percival directly. "I'm deeply sorry to both Percival and Christiane."

"Percival, do you accept his apology?" the king inquired.

"No, my lord, I do not," the older knight answered with irritation. "He has humiliated me and caused great discord between my wife and me. I don't believe him for one second!" he yelled as he lunged for Ulrich again, but was restrained once again, this time by Gwaine and Sir Erec.

Ulrich bellowed, "Just get it over with then and kill me, since you can't seem to control yourself! She's your wife, you have her, not I. You've won no matter what! Can't you see that? She's not leaving you for me!"

Ulrich's roommate, Michael, stepped forward and held onto the young knight's shoulder firmly, in both support and to ensure the man didn't suddenly charge forward in anger

"This? Is utter madness!" King Arthur shouted. "You're acting like love-struck girls and I will not let such behavior affect our work. We have a kingdom to protect! Go see the queen, now," he ordered. "I don't have the time to handle this foolishness. Whatever she decides, you will abide by, and I mean that." The king concluded with, "Gwaine, Erec, please escort them."

Gwaine tossed the two sullen knights their tunics; it wasn't appropriate for the men to see the queen while they were half-dressed. Several minutes later, without incident, the group arrived at the council chamber to find Queen Guinevere waiting for them, her lovely olive-toned skin complemented by the fabric of her rich, purple-colored gown. She looked at the men with her calm brown eyes and a sympathetic smile on her face.

Guinevere studied the group before her and said, "Welcome, gentlemen. I can see from the dour looks on your faces that this is not a social visit. Please have a seat and tell me what's troubling you."

As the knights took their seats before the queen, Gwaine provided a brief explanation of how Ulrich had kissed Percival's wife and professed his love for her, and how Percival felt unable to accept an apology.

"And Percival may have attempted to beat the stuffing out of Ulrich during training," added Gwaine.

The queen sighed. She'd been close to Gwaine and Percival for a long time and couldn't really imagine Percival behaving like this.

"Let me start out with Ulrich, if I may," Guinevere said. "Ulrich, can you control your feelings for Christiane?" she asked.

"No, Your Highness, I cannot," Ulrich replied.

Guinevere observed that Percival had begun to clench his fists and grind his teeth.

"I do understand that you cannot control your feelings. However, you can control your _behavior_. Arthur can't allow your deeds to cause discord among the knights. I know that you are a kind and reasonable man," the queen said sympathetically. "I hope from this point forward, you will agree that you will not touch Christiane inappropriately or pursue her romantically. Can you agree to this?"

Solemnly, Ulrich replied, "I can."

"Percival, is this agreeable to you?" the queen asked.

"If he remains true to his word, I am agreeable. However," added Percival, "I strongly feel he should receive some punishment for his behavior."

The queen paused in thought for a moment. "I agree. Actively pursuing a woman you know to be married is unacceptable for a knight." Addressing the younger knight directly, Guinevere said, "Ulrich, you will spend two nights in the dungeons, starting now. If you violate this agreement again, you will spend a month in the dungeons. Should you choose to violate it a third time, you will be banished from Camelot. Is that understood?"

Ulrich sat up straight and responded, "It is, Your Highness."

Guinevere went on to say, "And Percival, if you lay your hands on Sir Ulrich again without a very good cause, you will be spending a few nights in the dungeons yourself. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Your Highness," responded Percival.

"Very well, then. We've finished our business here," the queen concluded.

Just as Guinevere was about to dismiss the two men, the group heard a frenzied rapping on the council chamber doors. Lady Lindara charged in, panting, "I'm so sorry to interrupt without being granted a proper audience, Your Highness, but I need Percival to come to my chambers immediately; it's a matter of great urgency." She needed a moment to catch her breath before she continued. "Christiane is very ill; she began bleeding a short while ago. I fetched the midwife and she's tending to her now."

Percival did not ask for permission to be dismissed; he took off at a frantic run for Lindara's chambers.

Ulrich simply sat at the table, his head bowed.

Queen Guinevere said, "Gwaine, please escort Ulrich to the dungeons in a moment. I need a brief word with him first." Guinevere motioned for the young knight to approach her. She leaned forward and said to him, softly, "Once I know anything, I will send you word of Christiane's health."

"Thank you, Your Highness," Ulrich whispered thickly, just before Gwaine led him out.

Meanwhile, Percival's heart battered in his chest frighteningly fast. He found himself outside of Lindara's chamber door and saw Mary, fresh blood apparent on her apron and upon the sheets she carried from the room.

The woman dropped her load to the floor, reached forward and grasped Percival by the elbows, easing him to the ground. As a midwife, Mary had seen numerous men faint at the sound of their wives screaming during labor, and Percival appeared as if he was ready to drop.

"Let's have you put your head between your knees for a moment and breathe evenly and slowly. That's it," said Mary, taking a seat on the corridor floor next to Percival.

He glanced up. "Is she..." He couldn't say it.

Mary seemed confused, then realized what he was asking. "No! No," she reassured the man. "Christiane will be fine in a few days. Physically. She had a miscarriage. I'm very sorry." Patting his hand, she informed him, "But as far as I can tell, she'll be able to bear more children."

Percival sighed deeply, relieved his wife was alive and relatively well, but saddened over the loss of their child. "May I ask you something?"

"Of course," Mary said kindly.

"Is there any possibility that I caused this?"

"Why would you think you caused this? Unless you struck your wife, which I know you didn't, you couldn't have made this happen. Nor did she," the midwife offered comfortingly.

"But, we had a fight, an awful one," explained the miserable and guilty knight. "I said something terrible and she was so upset..."

"Percival, if every woman who had an argument with her husband miscarried, no children would ever be born. Do not blame yourself. You did nothing to cause this." Mary smiled at him sympathetically. "Would you like to come in and see her now?"

"I would. If she'll see me."

"Of course she will. She's been asking for you. But I want to tell you a few things first. She's very pale and tired and will likely be that way for a few days. She shouldn't be up-and-about too much until the bleeding's stopped completely, which should be within a day or so. In the meantime, see that she drinks plenty, eats as well as she can, and gets rest." Percival listened to her instructions intently.

"Also no sex for a couple of weeks. Then you can start trying again," said the midwife with a small smile.

"And Percival, I miscarried my first and went on to have two robust and healthy children. If my Gareth hadn't died, I'm sure we'd have had more," Mary assured him.

He nodded, thanked Mary for everything, and stepped quietly into Lindara's dimly-lit chambers. His wife sat on the bed propped-up by pillows. Mary was right; the poor woman looked quite colorless with dark circles under her eyes. Christiane appeared tired and sad, and Percival felt heartbroken.

The saddened husband still wasn't sure how his wife would receive him, so he walked to the bed tentatively. Christiane turned toward him, and held out her hand as an invitation for him to take it. Percival took her hand gently and kissed it as he knelt beside the bed.

"I should have been here with you," said Percival, choking up. "I'm so sorry this happened."

"No, it was all so sudden. A felt a little pain, and then...and then that was it. I knew it was too late and nothing could be done. But Mary and Lindara were very good to me." The recovering young woman leaned back and closed her eyes for a moment. "Can we go back to our chambers?"

"Of course. You're not supposed to walk around right now. I'll carry you." Percival lifted his wife gently from the bed and left the room with her securely in his arms.

Lindara stood outside of her chambers; she'd wanted to give the couple some privacy. Lindara was in her early forties and had lost her husband just about a year prior. She and her husband never had children, but the widow could imagine how painful it must be to lose a pregnancy. After all, Lindara recalled her own pain of never having conceived a child.

"Thank you, my lady, for all you have done," Percival said to the kind widow.

Lindara nodded. "I'm sorry for your suffering. Both of you. Now, take good care, and Christiane, I'll visit you when you're ready."

XXXX

Meanwhile, in the dungeons, Ulrich received word that Christiane had lost her baby, but was recovering and would be fine in a few days. He felt immense relief she was well, but sad for her loss.

As he sat on the floor of his dank cell, trying to ignore the pungent stench of the drunk prisoner with whom he shared the cramped space, he knew he needed to do everything in his power to move on. Starting that very moment. He began to realize in time, his heart might heal, but until then, he required distractions. Every time Christiane came to mind, he forced himself to think of something or someone else. Ulrich established that Carina was a good choice as she was fun, attractive, bold, and witty. Yes, she would do quite nicely.

He also vowed the moment he was released, he was going to the tavern to get drunk. Extraordinarily drunk, indeed. Something he'd never done before.


	12. Chapter 12 Life Carries On

**A/N - Well, Ulrich confessed his feelings for Christiane during chapter eleven, and his admission and actions caused quite the sensation. Clearly, Percival didn't take the whole situation well. And our poor Christiane, losing her pregnancy. Will she be able to conceive again? What will happen to Christiane's close friendship with Ulrich?**

**During chapter twelve, Percival and Christiane cope with the aftermath of the events discussed above, Ulrich gets stinking drunk, and the young knight finds himself with a new dinner companion.**

**Again, thank you for reading, you wonderful people! And a special shoutout to the people who have "favorited," "followed," and/or reviewed my story: SarahELupin, didnotattend, FrostedSunshine, Tomatensauce, sharzybear, Penevere, QueenArthur, and Guests.**

Chapter 12 - Life Carries On

Percival tended to Christiane kindly and lovingly for the first day of her convalescence. He brought her ginger tea and toast, ensured she was comfortable, and helped her to the privy whenever she needed.

In their shared grief, the couple discussed that night at the battlements. Percival explained he knew Christiane had done nothing wrong, but seeing another man touch her drove him to the edge of madness. He professed that she meant the world to him, and nothing could ever change that. The repentant husband begged for forgiveness about a dozen times, which Christiane granted. At his wife's request, Percival even agreed to forgive Ulrich.

Christiane impressed upon her husband that he should never doubt her love, loyalty, or fidelity again. "I love you, and you alone," she assured the man.

Unfortunately, Percival was required to return to his duties, but Carina came to attend to her friend the following day. Carina was not at all upset that Christiane had kept the pregnancy from her; Carina understood her close friend had wanted to share the good news with everyone when the time was right. It wasn't in Carina's nature to stay angry or hold grudges.

After they shared some tears and hugs together, Carina suggested they see a fortune teller.

"I know I'm going to be an auntie one day soon; I just want to know when!"

"Great idea, Carina. Shall we pack our bags for banishment, or prepare for our necks for execution?" asked Christiane jokingly. Though the king was in the process of slowly but surely legalizing the use of magic in the kingdom, calling on fortune tellers was not a widely-accepted practice.

And for the first time in several days, Christiane laughed.

The women spoke of Ulrich, and Christiane expressed she felt deeply sorry for him, and hoped he wasn't suffering too greatly in the dungeons.

"He's due to be released shortly," said Carina. "Would you mind if I paid him a visit?"

"No, I wouldn't mind at all," Christiane replied with enthusiasm. "That would be wonderful! He needs a friend right now. I don't know when I'll be able to spend time with him again. Please give him my regards and tell him I'm thinking of him."

The two friends passed the morning and afternoon reading, chatting, and playing a little chess. By the time Percival returned that evening, he noticed Christiane looked much better. A little color had returned to her cheeks and she seemed to be in higher spirits. Carina bid them a good evening and returned to her cottage.

"Do you think we could go down to the tavern for supper? I'm not bleeding any longer and I'd like to get out of the castle for a little while," Christiane said to her husband.

Concerned, Percival asked, "Are you sure you're well enough? It's only been two days."

"If we walk slowly, yes. I just want to get out for a time."

"All right, then," Percival acquiesced. "But if you get tired, please just tell me, and I'll carry you."

They walked down to the Rising Sun at a leisurely pace. Once inside, Christiane's father hugged his daughter closely, as he'd heard the news of her loss, and told the couple he'd have Terric make them anything they'd like. They settled on fish in sweet sauce along with some carrot and cabbage stew. Will joined his daughter and son-in-law, and it was a calm, relaxing supper.

As the three finished the final morsels of their meal, Ulrich entered the tavern and took a dimly-lit corner table, alone; he had not seen the couple.

Percival had seen Ulrich enter, and Christiane proceeded to give her husband a stern look. He assured his wife, "I've forgiven him, remember?"

"Have you really?" she questioned.

"Yes," said Percival. He rose and walked toward Ulrich's table.

Ulrich was already drinking deeply from a tankard of spiced wine, as the tippler with whom he'd shared his dungeon cell told him it would get him intoxicated the fastest. When Ulrich glanced up and saw Percival looming over him, the young man began to stand, but the large knight took a seat.

Percival extended his hand. "I'd like us both to forgive and forget. Can you do that yet?"

Ulrich eyed him suspiciously. "Is this a trick of some type?"

"No. My wife wants this and she cares for you as a friend. Therefore, I want this." His hand remained outstretched.

The younger knight, appearing somewhat relieved, grasped Percival's forearm in agreement, and said, "I'm sorry for everything. I made a real mess of things. I ask only as a friend, is Christiane all right?"

"She will be. Would you like me to send her over to say hello?"

"In all honestly, I'd like to sit here, alone, and just get drunk."

"Understood," Percival said and clasped him on the shoulder. "In time, this will sort itself out."

Percival returned to the table and Christiane commented, "That looked very friendly."

"It was," her husband replied. "All's well. He'd prefer to sit alone and get properly pissed tonight."

Christiane smiled weakly at Ulrich. She felt horrible he'd been held in the dungeons. Young Ulrich lifted his tankard, tipped it toward Christiane in acknowledgement, and resumed drinking.

"This meal took a lot more out of me than I thought it would," Christiane said suddenly. "Can we go home?"

"Do you need me to carry you?" asked Percival.

"Although you'd love that, no."

Will argued that Percival should carry his daughter back to the castle, but she insisted vehemently that she would walk on her own.

Ulrich willed himself to not look at the married couple as they left the tavern. He simply stared into his cup, which was nearly empty.

No supper and three large tankards of spiced wine later, Ulrich realized he was terribly drunk. He threw a handful of coins down onto the table, overpaying, and staggered from the tavern into the dusky evening as fast as his unsteady legs would carry him. He made it a little ways down the road to some bushes behind a modest and well-kept cottage and began to vomit ferociously. He'd never been drunk before and quickly realized it hadn't done him any good. The young man was sick, emotional as a wailing baby, and miserable. It seemed like a good idea to just lie there in the prickly bushes and possibly vomit again, which he did.

As Carina tested combinations of different exotic oil scents, she thought she heard someone throwing up and moaning behind her home. "Great!" she said with a sigh. "Just what I need tonight. Another drunk to run off. Where are the knights of Camelot when you need them?" She collected her broom and went outside to drive off the interloper.

She saw a man lying down face first in the bushes, and poked his side roughly with her broom's solid wooden handle. "Hey! Move along now. This is no place to kip!"

Ulrich rolled over onto his back, still balanced precariously in the bushes and looking sick as a dog. "It's you," he slurred. "Such a beauty. I thought so from the first time I saw you, but I was too busy being a fool about Percivinal...Pertsible's wife," Ulrich fumbled. "Maybe you should just run me through," he said with a moan, clutching his roiling stomach.

"I didn't know it was you!" Carina announced with shock, dropping her broom-weapon. "Sir Ulrich, you poor thing. Let me help you inside for a bit and get you fixed up."

He rolled over again, face back in the bushes. "No. Leave me here to die. I think I'm already dead." Ulrich mumbled, "Why do people drink like this? Never again."

Carina laughed and heaved him upright by the back of his tunic. "That's what they all say. I have a suspicion you're not usually a drinker."

He swayed and confessed, "This is a first."

The drunken knight paused and turned to face the small woman, studying her with glassy eyes. "You know, you're beautiful. And you smell pretty." He paused. "Wait, I'm going to be sick again." He spun around and heaved into the bushes once more.

When Ulrich was done, Carina draped his arm over her shoulders and helped him inside of her cozy cottage. "Let me get a bucket ready for you," she told the intoxicated young man, assuming there was more vomit to come. "And have you eaten at all? It seems like you were just vomiting up drink."

"Not since I've been in the dungeons."

"You haven't eaten in two days, and you went straight for drink? That's not smart," she said with concern. "Let's get a spot of peppermint tea and a little bread into you." Carina busied herself searching the cupboard for tea and food.

"Your house smells pretty, too," Ulrich muttered as he fell backwards into her father's old bed. The now-supine and inebriated young knight asked, "May I say one last thing?"

Often entertained by the ramblings of drunks, Carina said, "You may."

"You have amazing breasts. Perfect."

She chuckled and said with mirth, "Really? I find them too small."

"No. Perfect," Ulrich mumbled into the pillow as he rolled over. "As is your backside." Within moments, he snored loudly.

Carina sighed, covered him with a light blanket, abandoned the search for herbal tea and bread, and resumed working with her oils. After a couple of hours, she realized the drunk Ulrich was probably out for the night, and there was no point in waking the young knight. She blew out the candles and settled into her own bed.

At sunrise, Ulrich sat bolt-upright, trying to piece together where he was and why. Suddenly, through the blinding headache, nausea, and bone-dry mouth, it all came back to him. "No, no, no!" he moaned, his head in his hands.

Carina stirred from her bed. "Ah, I see you're awake and alive. That's good. Let me get you some toast with jam and tea now."

She rose in nothing but her thin nightwear and began to stoke the fire and prepare some simple food.

"Oh, and here. This is Gaius's famous hangover remedy. Best to drink it all down in one shot, with your nose pinched. It tastes like hell." She tried to hand Ulrich a small bottle of dark-brown liquid.

Despite his many pains, Ulrich leapt up, ignoring her extended hand. "I've already inconvenienced you enough! And said horribly inappropriate things! And what will people say when they find I've spent the night here?" he ranted. "Your reputation will be ruined! Don't worry, I'll explain the truth."

Carina burst out in a fit of laughter. "First of all, I found your comments very complimentary. I don't think I've heard anyone say anything positive about my breasts before. Or backside, come to think of it."

She continued tending to the bread toasting in the fireplace. "And second, I already have a reputation, so I'm not worried about that. I'm still a maiden by strictest definition, but most people assume I'm quite the harlot."

Ulrich wasn't sure how to respond. "That's not fair that they should say such things about you." He found himself becoming unreasonably angry on Carina's behalf.

"I honestly don't care," Carina remarked. "I had my fun. But now that I see the type of love Christiane and Percival have, I know that's what I want. And I'll wait for it." She looked suddenly chagrined. "Oh, I'm sorry, that wasn't very considerate of me to bring up!"

"No, please, it's all right. I have to get over it," the young knight assured her.

Carina presented Ulrich with the peppermint tea and toast, which he accepted as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

"I think you could use a friend right now. As could I," Carina said. "You should stop by for supper whenever you can. Sometimes, I eat at the tavern, or with Christiane, but I'm usually home for my evening meal."

Something stirred inside of Ulrich. "I could use a friend, too. I'm afraid I'm a terrible cook, but I can always bring dessert or some mead. Just no more spiced wine," he offered with a shudder as he took a small bite of his toast.

"That sounds delightful," Carina beamed. "Feel free to come by tomorrow evening, if you can."

Ulrich chewed thoughtfully, happy that the now-meager contents of his stomach seemed to be staying put. "I will," he said somewhat cheerfully.

"And thank you for all of your help," Ulrich said to his caretaker and new friend, finally accepting the hangover remedy from her. "I'll just down this concoction and then head back to the castle; I'm expected at training this afternoon. I hope I survive." He drank the vial of brown liquid, sputtered, made a face, and groaned, "You're right; that was horrible!"

Stepping forward, he asked Carina, "May I hug you in thanks?"

"Quite the proper fellow today!" she teased. "Of course."

They embraced briefly, and Ulrich left, his spirits considerably lighter than they'd been.

XXXX

Summertime waned and cooler autumn winds took their place. Christiane loved this time of year with the milder temperatures, the autumn harvest, and fall celebrations. It was also the month of her birth anniversary, and she would be nineteen. She could scarcely believe how much her life had changed during the past half-year.

Christiane had fully recuperated from her miscarriage, and though she often felt sad about the loss, talking to other women who had endured similar losses yet went on to have healthy children gave her some hope.

A couple of weeks after her pregnancy loss, Percival and Christiane took a ride to a small creek in the forest, a private and peaceful place where they could spend some time together. They hadn't made love since Christiane's loss, as she was still healing and Percival was hesitant.

They spread a blanket down in front of the creek, and even though the water was crisp, they dipped-in their toes, then sat on the blanket, holding hands. Christiane turned to her husband.

"Percival," she said. "I want to have your baby. And I want to make love again. Now."

He turned toward her, still holding her hand. He'd been afraid to touch her until that moment, not wanting to pressure her and to give her enough time to heal.

He rolled on top of her carefully, peppering her face and neck with kisses. He pulled down the top of her dress in order to lavish her breasts with attention as well. Christiane fumbled for his trouser laces as Percival hiked-up her skirt. He entered her with urgency and within a few driving thrusts, Christiane found her release, trembling slightly beneath him. Percival pulled out of her, taking a moment to dry off his erection on the blanket before he got up on his knees, wrapped his hands in Christiane's hair, and urged her to take his length into her mouth, which she was happy to do.

Percival relished the feel of his wife's mouth on him, but rather than find is own release yet, he moved onto his back and lifted Christiane onto his face, shoving her skirt aside to give him good access. He knew this was a bold move and not something he'd tried before. Initially, Christiane was hesitant, but as Percival paid close attention to her intimate parts with his tongue, she moved her hips against him, clearly enjoying his touch.

As another orgasm tore through Christiane, but rather than let her rest, Percival turned her on her back and thrust into her again, finally allowing himself to climax. The two then rested quietly on the blanket, exhausted, both feeling a new level of intimacy and connection.

"We'll have you with child again soon," Percival promised as he held his wife's hand and caressed her knuckles with his thumb.

XXXX

As the seasons changed, Ulrich committed himself to his training, but he spent a great deal of his free time with Carina. They shared supper together several nights per week.

Ulrich had seen Christiane only in passing since the incident at the battlements. His heart had stopped aching when she waved or smiled at him from a distance, and he began to wonder if what he felt for her was ever really love, or just infatuation fueled my loneliness. Meanwhile, he found himself looking forward to his time with Carina a great deal, and came to appreciate her beauty and spirit more with each passing day.

After supper one evening, while seated at the dinner table, Ulrich presented Carina with a small bag filled with her favorite dessert, raspberry tarts. She groaned and rolled her eyes at the treat.

"What? You love these!" Ulrich insisted.

"Yes, but my dresses don't like them. Your desserts are making me fat," said Carina, and she patted her belly.

With a dismissive shake of his head, Ulrich stated, "Oh that is nonsense. You're quite fit."

"You think so?" she questioned. "Look at this!"

Much to Ulrich's astonishment, Carina stood and lifted her skirts in order to expose her belly. While the young man was rather shocked, he recognized immediately that he liked everything he saw; nothing was fat. In fact, every part of Carina's body on display looked amazing, including a gorgeous little belly button, creamy white skin, and the tantalizing outline of what lay beneath her undergarments. His cock throbbed at the mere thought.

"You…you can't just do that!" Ulrich stammered as Carina continued to hold up the hems of her skirts.

He formulated a plan quickly and said, "Hmmm, actually, I can't really tell how you look; you'll need to step closer so I can see more clearly." She approached Ulrich's seat, and he pretended to examine Carina carefully, then grabbed her by the waist and drew her into his lap.

"Your body is amazing, as are you," Ulrich whispered into her ear, and claimed her mouth with his own.

Carina was quite surprised; Ulrich had never been so forward. Though mesmerized for a moment by the sizzle of his kiss, the slight scrape of his unshaven jaw, and comfort of his lap, she tried to pull away.

"No. This isn't right. I won't be second best, I'm sorry." Carina attempted to stand, but Ulrich held onto her firmly. He turned her face toward his with a gentle nudge of his hand and looked into her brown eyes, which appeared forlorn.

"You could never be second best," Ulrich promised. "You're stunningly beautiful, kind, smart, mischievous, and a little wild. You're incredible."

Carina's eyes reddened, and she couldn't stop a tear from escaping. "But you love my friend."

He shook his head, wiping away the tear. "I was lonely and infatuated. I know that now. I think of you each night and every morning. You, and only you."

"Please don't play with my feelings," Carina told him, still feeling deeply uncertain.

"I would never do that."

"Let me think about things tonight," Carina told Ulrich as she rose from his lap. "Can we see each other tomorrow?"

"I can come after evening patrol, if you'd like."

"Yes. That would be good."

Carina kissed his cheek and Ulrich departed, nervous, but hopeful.

He made it ten steps away from the cottage when he heard Carina call out from the doorway of her home, "I've thought about things! I'd like you to come back."

Ulrich turned around and walked up to her slowly. She took his hand and led him back inside.

"Tonight, just kiss me," she said once they were indoors.

And he did, but nothing more.


	13. Chapter 13 Autumn Arrives

**A/N - During chapter twelve, Christiane recuperated and Ulrich and Carina began a close friendship. **

**Coming up in chapter thirteen, Carina gives young Ulrich quite the lesson, there's more big news, and we all get to attend the Harvest Festival. I wish I could really be there :)**

**Again, thank you for reading, you wonderful people!**

Chapter 13 - Autumn Arrives

King Arthur announced this year, the Harvest Festival would be held on the vast castle training field, open to all, with the king and queen both in attendance. This was a special occurrence, because while Arthur often opened the grounds for various festivals, he and Guinevere rarely attended larger events for any length of time, because he knew it put a great strain on the knights to provide security for an entire evening. But he felt this was a special occasion; Morgana and Mordred were dead and Camelot had begun to flourish. The king hoped this marked the beginning of peaceful and prosperous times.

The Harvest Festival happened to coincide with Christiane's birthday. She felt incredibly lucky and excited that she would have the opportunity spend that day enjoying the festivities. Although she knew Percival would be busy with security detail, she'd have him to herself later that night. However, during the day and early evening, she and Carina would play games, drink, and feast.

Percival was in a bit of a quandary about what to give his wife as a birthday gift. He wanted to present her with something meaningful and thoughtful. The knight knew she was ecstatic about the festival falling on her birth anniversary, and he wanted to make sure her day was extra special. Percival decided to call on Carina for some ideas and help. He thought since Christiane was training with Gaius until later in the evening, he'd take a stroll down to Carina's cottage to see if he could have a word with her before supper time.

It was a gorgeous and cool autumn evening, and Percival was lost in thought as he ambled toward the cottage. As he drew closer, he took a quick glance into the window and saw that Carina clearly had a guest, and a male guest, at that. Percival didn't want to snoop, but upon closer inspection, he realized her companion was none other than Ulrich, and the two seemed to be sharing a rather cozy, intimate evening meal.

The large knight smiled slightly. "I'll be damned," he muttered under his breath. He then understood why Ulrich had been so pleasant and personable during the last few weeks.

Percival tried to depart silently, but as a knight himself, Ulrich was sensitive to furtive movements, and noticed someone skulking outside of Carina's window. Ulrich didn't have his sword with him, but he put his hand on his belt-dagger and told his supper companion, "I saw something outside. I'll be right back."

Percival saw Ulrich rise from the table, and knew instantly he'd been caught. Ulrich walked outside and moved toward the older knight warily. Ulrich asked, "Percival, are you here to see Carina? I'm sorry, I thought it might be an intruder."

Percival felt a bit embarrassed. "I just came down to talk to her about gift ideas for Christiane. But I can see you're busy; I'll come back a different time."

The corner of Ulrich's mouth turned up ever so slightly. It made him feel a little glad that the older knight was uncomfortable. "Really, it's just supper," Ulrich said casually. "We've been spending a bit of time together." He sighed. "That's a lie. I'm honestly quite mad for her."

Relief washed over Percival. For the past month or so, he'd still worried about the whole Ulrich-loves-Christiane idea. But if the young man was developing feelings for Carina, Percival could rest much easier now.

"Ha! That's great," the older knight declared. "But I wouldn't want to spoil your evening and intrude."

"Not at all. You know how Carina loves Christiane. She'd be happy to help."

Percival entered the cottage with Ulrich and Carina looked on with surprise. "Oh, are we to have a duel, right here in my home?" she joked with a jovial clap of her hands. Ulrich explained why Percival had come to pay a visit.

"I have an idea!" Carina said with enthusiasm. "It'll be perfect."

Percival visited for a short while longer, discussing the proposed gift with Carina and how to obtain it. He even had a few sips of ale before he departed.

After Percival left, Carina said, "Now that was interesting! No dirty looks or hostility. I'm glad to see you boys getting on!"

"You'll be even happier when you see what I brought for dessert," Ulrich told her, opened his satchel, and removed a small assortment of crispels[5], the scent of rich pastry and sweet honey filling the room.

"I love these! But this is so unfair," Carina moaned from her seat at the table. "You know I'm going to eat them and get even fatter!"

From his chair, Ulrich pretended to study her midsection. "You may be right," he said with feigned seriousness. "Turn around and let me see your backside so I can judge more appropriately."

Carina knew he was joking but she stood and shook her rear at him; he laughed at her silliness. She then turned to face him again, and lifted her skirts as she had done once previously. Before she had the opportunity to say a word, Ulrich grabbed the lovely Carina's waist, drew her close, and planted a solid kiss on her belly. He then slipped a finger under the edge of her undergarment, pulled it down ever so slightly, and kissed one hip, then the other. Carina gasped, appearing to enjoy his touch. Ulrich slid his hands up along her ribs, and briefly brushed his hands against her breasts. He desperately wanted to keep touching her, but wasn't looking to get hit about the head with a cooking kettle.

"Would you like to do more than just kiss my hip?" Carina asked huskily, as if she'd read his thoughts.

"More?" Ulrich asked, his voice shaking slightly.

"Can I ask, what have you done with a woman? Or, girl?" Carina remained inches from Ulrich face, skirts still lifted.

Ulrich felt a bit embarrassed at that moment. After all, he was almost eighteen, and had virtually no experience with women. "I've had a kiss or two with girls. I accidentally brushed against a breast once, but that's it," he told her, face flaming with awkwardness.

Carina dropped her skirts, sat in Ulrich's lap, wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered in his ear, "If you'd like to do more, I'm a good teacher. Quite patient."

Ulrich was a bit worried. As much as he wanted her to claim Carina's virginity that very second (and lose his own), he cared for her too much to dishonor her. Yet he asked, "Teach me what?"

"Oral sex, silly. I'm not giving up my maidenhood to you just yet! And if you're a good pupil, I shall return the favor," she affirmed with a slight grin.

Ulrich's mouth went dry at the thought of getting up close and personal with Carina's most private parts. He had a working knowledge of what to do, thanks to Gwaine's endless stories of his mastery with women in bed (and elsewhere). The young knight felt both excited and scared to death. And the thought of having the favor returned was just about enough to make him dizzy.

"What if I'm bad at it?" he asked, feeling more inexperienced and foolish by the second.

"I know you won't be. Just listen to what I tell you and you'll be amazing. A man who kisses like you will be excellent." Carina paused for a moment, clearly considering something. "Unless you don't want to. I know some men don't like it."

"No, _no_, I want to. I really want to. Men who don't like it must be mad, I think." He gulped, nerves overtaking him. "I just want you to enjoy it and I'm worried you won't," he admitted.

"Why don't we remove some extra clothing, and then you can decide?" Carina suggested.

She stripped off her dress quickly, as it was a simple one without laces. Then, without taking off her sheer shift, she removed her undergarments and tossed them across the room. The fabric of the shift was so thin, Ulrich saw everything, noting the soft hair between Carina's legs was a shade darker than the hair on her head. And he was about to get closer to it.

"I'd suggest removing your shirt, at a minimum," she indicated.

Ulrich complied and tugged off his shirt. He stood there mutely for a moment, and decided to rid himself of his boots and trousers as well, and did so somewhat clumsily.

"Might as well get rid of the drawers, too," Carina said lightly.

Ulrich had never stood naked in front of a woman before, and the thought of tossing aside his drawers was quite anxiety-provoking. But he did it anyway.

"I must say, your body's rather exquisite. Very sexy," Carina observed as she circled him closely, tracing her finger lightly around his body as she moved. She positioned herself in front of him and placed her hands on his solid chest. "And that is the most gorgeous cock I've ever seen," she claimed boldly.

Carina pressed her hips against his and tasted his lips hungrily. She then turned, wandered slowly over to her bed, and patted her mattress. "Now, come to my bed," she instructed, and Ulrich complied without hesitation.

"First," Carina told Ulrich as she reclined, "you want to spend some time kissing and touching before you dive between a woman's legs. So you'll want to kiss me," she gestured toward her lips. "Next, you could touch me here," Carina motioned toward her breasts. "And finally, here," she said, pointing toward her most sensitive area.

"Should I do this now?" Ulrich made a point to ask.

The scantily-clad woman answered, "Yes. Now."

Ulrich climbed onto the bed and covered Carina's mouth with his own, gently prodding her lips open with his tongue. Then, in what he considered to be a daring move, he slipped his hand under the hem of her shift and began caressing her breasts, then lightly rolled her taut nipples between his fingers.

"Ah, that's nice," she complimented him. "Now, try your hand a bit lower. Gently as first. If a woman feels wet, she's enjoying it." Carina looked him in the eye. "And I promise, I am enjoying it."

Ulrich took a deep breath and reached between her legs. It felt good, he noted, warm and silky. It reminded him of the underside of a lily pad. He gently explored her slick folds as he kissed her intently. Carina began to moan and squirm a bit. Ulrich stopped suddenly, and she smiled slightly and told him, "That means you're doing a good job. Keep going."

After a few minutes of this activity, Ulrich was quite excited himself. Carina began to pant and gasp when she finally took his wrist to stop him and said, "Okay. Are you ready to try your tongue?"

Ulrich nodded nervously and kissed his way down her body to the dark-blonde hair between her legs.

"A few quick pointers before you begin," Carina said breathlessly. "Focus most of your work here," she indicated, pointing at the swollen center of her desire. "Use your tongue on it in circles, up and down, side to side, just don't stop." He simply stared at her. "Well, have at it!" she ordered.

Ulrich was incredibly grateful for her detailed instructions, but said, "One last thing! Will you let me know when you're ready to have an, um, you know..."

"An orgasm, Ulrich?"

From between Carina's thighs, he answered, "Er, yes, that."

"Yes, I'll let you know," she said with a smile.

Ulrich exhaled and touched his tongue gently to the apex of her folds. It was warm, salty, intoxicating, and he loved it. He thought she, and her entire body, were sweeter than straight honey.

Carina moaned loudly, but he recalled this was a good sign, so Ulrich began to move his tongue rhythmically against her. Within moments, she groaned more loudly, squirming, burying her hands in his hair and moving her hips against him. He somehow recalled her advice and slipped a hand up to her breast, kneading it and squeezing her nipple. She cried out, and Ulrich ceased his activity for a moment, assuming he had hurt her or done something wrong.

"Are you mad? Don't stop!" she instructed breathlessly.

Ulrich chuckled, relieved, and continued his attention to Carina's intimate parts.

Once again, she moved against him, breathing rapidly and whimpering. He slipped a finger inside of her, and began moving it in and out as he continued to use his tongue against her. Carina was so tight and wet, the feeling so utterly incredible, Ulrich thought he might find his release himself, right then. She was so responsive it made him burn with need.

The next moment, Carina cried out, "Oh God, Ulrich!" and he felt everything tense a bit against his tongue and fingers; her orgasm then pulsed against him.

"God have mercy, you're incredible," she declared once she'd caught her breath. "And you are certain you've never done this before?" Ulrich shook his head. "You are absolutely very handy with that tongue of yours. I've never felt anything quite like that. Give me a minute to recuperate, and I'll be happy to return the favor."

"Only if you're sure," said Ulrich.

"Oh," she proclaimed with an excited gleam in her eye, "I am."

After taking a minute to compose herself and offering Ulrich something to drink, Carina told him to lie back against the pillows. "Unless you'd prefer to stand," she said.

"No," Ulrich told her. "I'd be likely to fall over."

Ulrich positioned himself on the bed. He had an idea about how it might feel, but didn't actually know what to expect.

"Wait, before you start, I should warn you, this, uh, this probably isn't going to take very long. At all. Should I tell you when, um, when…"

"Just lie there and let me do the work, will you?" Carina joked.

She settled herself between Ulrich's legs and took his cock in her hand. "Very, very nice," she complimented before she took his length into her mouth and began to move quickly up and down it.

Ulrich assumed, erroneously, this event would take a few minutes. Instead, he realized he'd be lucky to last a minute, at best. Just as he thought he was about to climax, hips bucking against Carina as he groaned loudly, she slowed down the pace and used her mouth more gently. Once he'd settled a bit, she resumed the ministrations. After a few rounds of this, several minutes later, Ulrich could no longer hold off. The touch of her eager tongue and her warm, wet mouth was more than he could endure. The feel of her soft hair in his hands, her scent, like wildflowers, it all drove him mad. He tried to warn her that his release was imminent, but he was completely tongue tied, and came with a loud sigh.

Carina didn't seemed the least bit offended by this, and simply took a sip of mead from the small table next to the bed when they were through.

"Was it all you'd hoped it would be?" she asked jokingly, resting against his muscled and inviting chest.

Ulrich replied, stroking her hair as she lay nestled close to his body, "It was a thousand times more than I thought it would be! Can we do it all again?"

"Yes, but I need a spot of rest first."

They fell asleep on Carina's bed, wrapped in each other's arms.

And they did it again that night. Two more times, as a matter of fact.

XXXX

Harvest Festival preparations were in full-swing, and the castle bustled with activity. It seemed as if everyone in the kingdom was baking, cooking, decorating, or planning in some way. While King Arthur and Queen Guinevere made it clear they would provide food (including the traditional roast goose), drink, and entertainment, it was customary for people to bring their own special dishes, or other contributions, such as musical instruments, horseshoes, marbles, lengths of rope for tug-of-war, and nine pins. Those with more resources brought extra for the poor; it was truly a community event.

Even Gaius, who often felt there was "precious little time for such frivolity," allowed Christiane to decorate the infirmary with some harvest vegetables.

Though Gaius had the tendency to be a bit dour and serious at times, Christiane loved training with the old physician. While Merlin was very occupied these days trying to help Arthur establish new and reasonable rules legalizing the use of magic in Camelot, Gaius had begun to rely on Christiane more and more. Not only was he a true fountain of information and knowledge, he was a kind, compassionate, patient man.

As she decorated the chamber, Christiane asked, "Gaius, you'll go to the Harvest Festival tomorrow, won't you?"

He sighed heavily. "I suppose I shall. Inevitably, someone gets hurt at these types of gatherings."

"Oh, good, you'll save a dance for me then," Christiane teased.

"Would you have me break a hip?" Gaius asked testily. "I think not!" But Christiane swore she saw a faint smile on his lips.

XXXX

The excitement of the Harvest Festival, scheduled to begin in only a few hours, was palpable throughout the kingdom. By early afternoon, tables would be set, games in full swing, delectable and plentiful food available, and the drinks would flow freely. It was as if all of Camelot had woken exceptionally early in anticipation. However for most of the knights, it was a day like many others, as they were needed to maintain order and security. Yet the food was certain to be better than the somewhat bland, regular fare they consumed during meal breaks.

Percival dressed for the day in his usual chainmail, gambeson, and scarlet cape bearing the Pendragon crest while his wife looked on from their bed. She thought he seemed so powerful, so beautiful, that her heart ached with love. How she felt about him, whether he was twenty or eighty, it would never change. He would always remain her strong, capable, loving husband, no matter the circumstances; of this, she was certain.

"You look quite pensive," Percival commented.

Blushing, Christiane said, "I was just thinking about how much I love you."

"And I, you. I'll see you down on the grounds for the celebration in a couple of hours," he said as he leaned over the bed and kissed her goodbye. "And before I miss the chance, happy birthday, love. I have a gift for you, but I'll give it to you this evening," he noted before departing.

A few hours later, the festivities began in earnest. It was late morning and the castle grounds were already swarming with Camelot's people. Dozens upon dozens of tables draped with harvest cloths and decorations could be found, in addition to tents which provided some respite from the bright sun. Various game and contest stations were scattered about, offering activities for the young and old. The musicians had begun playing and later, after a good deal of mead was drunk, people would dance. It was a fine autumn day.

By chance, Ulrich and Percival were assigned to the same section of the castle grounds for security patrol. They stood off at a distance, watching the children play a game of tag, while remaining alert for any trouble. A couple of young girls, no older than four or five, sat on the ground, crying, obviously unhappy with the rough turn the game had taken. Right then, Christiane and Carina swept in, each picking up a little girl and carrying her around piggyback. The women ran and ducked as they carried the little ones, striving to avoid the hands of eager young boys. The tiny girls laughed, squealed and everyone appeared to be having a grand time once again.

Ulrich looked wistful. "She's such a beauty," he said under his breath but Percival heard the comment, and immediately stiffened. Ulrich glanced over at him, confused. "What? No, oh, _no_, I meant Carina." He added quickly, "But of course, your wife is lovely, too."

Percival relaxed and clapped the younger knight on the shoulder, chuckling. "And what are you planning on doing with such a beauty?"

"Can you keep a secret?" Ulrich asked. Percival nodded in agreement. "I bought a ring from Marsilia yesterday. Tonight, I'm going to ask for Carina's hand. I have the ring in my pocket and I can't stop thinking about it!" The young knight explained, "Carina's father just sent word that he won't be returning from his expedition for _another_ year now, and I can't wait that long to ask for permission. I did send him a letter, though."

"That's really something!" exclaimed Percival.

"It is," Ulrich agreed. "I hope she'll say yes. I'm a little worried, because we've talked about traveling abroad and going on trading missions, like her father. She's a shrewd saleswoman and I know a bit about weaponry, but we wouldn't be able to travel together for some time." He paused to take a breath. "She may want excitement and adventure now when she's young. So, I'm not sure what she'll say."

Percival joked with Ulrich, "I have a feeling you give her the excitement she wants." The older knight then said seriously, "Truly, put in a few more years as a knight, then travel a bit, and raise some children; I know Carina would be happy with that. And with you."

"You know, you wanted to see me dead not so long ago," Ulrich observed.

Percival said, "Nah, I'm too busy trying to get my wife pregnant these days. That'll be you soon, too." He shoved the younger knight playfully, and they resumed their patrol.

The day of fun and festivities carried on. Christiane performed well in the archery contest and both she and Carina had an excellent time playing horseshoes. As the sun began to set, musicians started to play songs designed for dancing, and the two friends frolicked happily. They knew soon, the castle staff would begin to bring out dishes of roast goose, batter-fried vegetables, goat cheese cakes, and spiced nettle soup, as well as a variety of pies and tarts. Afterward, they'd be too stuffed to move, so they enjoyed their dancing while they could.

Once thoroughly exhausted, Carina and Christiane left the dancing area for a spot of cider to quench their thirst. Percival and Ulrich came up behind each woman, grasping her by the waist. The young ladies shrieked in surprise, but promptly realized who'd taken hold of them.

"We just wanted to say a quick hello before returning to our duties," Percival said to his wife. "Are you having a good birthday?" he inquired.

"It's been wonderful," she told him. "Though it will be even better once you're off duty later." She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.

Ulrich spun Carina around. "My patrol ends directly after the feast. Do you think you can make some time for me then?"

She sighed and said teasingly, "If I must...of course I will! I've missed you today."

Ulrich and Percival bid their ladies farewell and returned to their stations.

Carina and Christiane made their way to a nearby table and took their seats, ready to indulge in a delicious meal. However, King Arthur had a few words to share with the sizable crowd first.

"Citizens of Camelot, I welcome you to the annual Harvest Festival," announced Arthur. "This year is special, as we have gained so much and are growing and prospering as a kingdom. I am honored to call myself king of such a strong, loyal, kind community. You humble me with your good deeds and valuable contributions to Camelot.

"Before we begin, let us bow our heads in remembrance of those we have lost this past year." A moment of complete silence ensued. King Arthur raised his head once again and said, "Queen Guinevere and I thank you for attending. Let's enjoy this delicious feast!"

The attendees cheered, "Long live the king! Long live the queen!" then tucked into their scrumptious meals.

All was well. For the moment.

* * *

><p>[5] A crispel is a fried, round pastry basted in honey, popular during medieval times.<p> 


	14. Chapter 14 A Knight's Loss and Gain

**A/N - Well, Carina and Ulrich had quite the time together! Do you think their relationship will last? And I would love to be at Camelot's Harvest Festival. I can just imagine being there.**

**I want to warn you, during chapter fourteen, there's an significant injury and a fairly graphic description of a medical procedure. Someone we know and love is going to be hurt...badly. You're definitely going to see some very significant changes, both upsetting and happy. Also, this chapter is definitely one of the longer ones. **

**I appreciate your continued support! Those reviews mean everything to me.**

Chapter 14 - A Knight's Loss and Gain

The feast carried on splendidly as the autumn sky darkened and the moon glowed brightly. The castle staff lit several pit fires near the feast tables to provide some light and help dispel the chill that was slowly creeping in. And the citizens of Camelot raved about the delectable food, plentiful drink, and lively entertainment.

Along with many other knights, Ulrich spent most of his time roaming by the head tables, assuring everything was in order, while Percival was further afield.

As Ulrich patrolled behind the king and queen, he sensed something unusual about the way one of the helmeted knights carried himself, as well as the man next to him. Since their faces were obscured by the metal of their helms, he was unsure of their identities.

In a flash, both men in question moved swiftly toward the king and queen, swords drawn. Ulrich unsheathed his weapon, raced forward, and slit the first man's throat from ear to ear; the trespasser fell instantly. The young knight then spun around, and with the strength of both hands, Ulrich drove his sword's blade into the other intruder's gut, up to the hilt, twisting the weapon violently after it had punctured the soft flesh.

However, in a final burst of energy, the dying interloper brought his sword down full-strength against Ulrich's left arm, severing it clean off, just above the elbow where the knight's chainmail had bunched. The trespasser then fell, Ulrich's sword still protruding from his midsection.

That is when the screams began, shattering the calm of the crisp and previously-festive autumn night.

At first, Ulrich wasn't certain why the screaming continued. After all, both would-be assassins lay dead and the threat likely over. It took him a moment to realize the blood he saw splattered everywhere was mostly his own. As was the severed arm lying in the grass by his feet.

Arthur ran over and caught Ulrich before he fell. As the king did so, Christiane instantly entered healer-mode, tore the hem of her skirt and immediately fashioned a tourniquet for Ulrich's hemorrhaging arm.

Leon and Gwaine approached the royal couple and insisted Arthur and Guinevere return to the castle with them forthwith, since they were unsure if more attackers were present and the area needed to be secured.

Other knights tried their best to quell the crowd's rising panic and began to escort everyone away from the field toward their homes, promising to provide updates later.

It all happened quickly, and Percival was so far down the field when the screams began, he wasn't sure what occurred. When he finally came upon the scene, he saw Ulrich in his wife's arms, both covered in blood, Carina sobbing hysterically, and the young knight's severed arm on the ground. Gaius was still making his way over.

Percival immediately stepped in, lifted the shocked and bloodied Ulrich from his wife's hold, and ordered, "Gaius, Christiane, Carina, let's get him to the infirmary straight away!"

As Percival ran with a limp Ulrich in his arms, the young knight whispered weakly, "I beg you, take off the tourniquet. In don't want to live like this. Please let me die."

"Nonsense," Percival panted, huffing with exertion as he raced for the infirmary. "Let's just get to Gaius's chambers. You have a proposal to make later anyway."

Ulrich was too weak to argue.

Percival arrived at Gaius's quarters before anyone else, kicked open the thick wooden door, and placed Ulrich down on the examination table carefully. The younger knight's face was so white and bloodless, Percival was certain his comrade never make it, and felt it was his duty to make the dying man's last moments as comfortable as possible.

"When Carina accepts your marriage proposal later, do you plan on telling her you'd like a small army of little knights from her?"

Ulrich smiled feebly at his large friend, but didn't have the strength respond.

Percival was incredibly nervous, so he continued talking. "Just remember, if you have any questions about how to perform in the marriage bed, Gwaine will be happy to provide tips. For many, many hours."

Ulrich's eyes had begun to flicker closed. "No!" Percival commanded. "You must stay awake for another moment. Gaius and Christiane will be here to help any time."

Seconds later, Carina, Gaius, and Christiane burst into the room. Gaius began to issue authoritative orders. "We have but once choice; we must cauterize the wound. Christiane, place the flat iron into the fire immediately!"

As Christiane grabbed the iron and thrust it into the blazing hearth, Carina sobbed, "We must find Merlin! His magic..."

Gaius answered softly, "Merlin's visiting with his mother in Ealdor. It's up to us now."

The physician then turned to Percival and ordered, "As quickly as you can, fetch a knight, or any strong man to help hold Ulrich down. I'm going to give him a large dose of valerian and belladonna, but it won't be enough."

Moments after Gaius forced the tincture into Ulrich's mouth, Percival returned to the infirmary with Gwaine, who looked upon his ashen-faced, bloodied, half-conscious comrade with wide eyes.

Gaius continued with his orders. "Gwaine, Percival, please hold Ulrich down as best you can. It will take two rounds with the iron to cauterize the entire wound, each application lasting three to four seconds." He cautioned the men, "He'll fight you, so be ready."

The physician then jammed a wooden dowel between Ulrich's teeth so the young knight would have something to bite down on during this horrible ordeal. As he did so, Gaius said to the women, "Carina, stand by his head and reassure him. Christiane, I'll need you to apply the iron. Now, please."

Christiane gulped hard, feeling completely overwhelmed and woefully unprepared, but knew this was part of a healer's work and had to be done.

The knights held Ulrich down firmly. Carina tenderly placed her hands on the sides of the injured man's head, gently whispering reassurances to him. Christiane swiftly removed the tourniquet and immediately pulled the iron from the fire, then pressed the scorching-hot metal to the bloody stump of Ulrich's arm, sizzling his flesh. She counted to four as the man thrashed violently, spit out the biting stick, and screamed in agony. The young knight began to gag uncontrollably as Christiane removed the iron.

"He's going to vomit; roll him on his side, now!" Gaius commanded with authority. Percival and Gwaine rolled Ulrich over as the desperately-injured knight threw up onto the floor.

Except Gaius, every person in the room shook with apprehension and fear. They were all well aware that knights rarely survived limb amputation. And if they somehow lived through the initial devastating injury and blood loss, normally, fever and infection claimed the men shortly thereafter. Ulrich's prognosis was certainly grim.

"That iron needs to go back in the fire immediately," the experienced physician ordered.

Incredibly nervous, Christiane put the iron back in the flame.

"One last time," said Gaius softly. "Then, the worst will be over." Christiane shook visibly as she applied the iron to the wound once again.

"Please, I beg you!" Ulrich shrieked frantically. One, two, three, four, it was done, and Ulrich passed out from excruciating pain.

Gaius examined the cauterized flesh closely, and stated, "The wound is sealed now. He's less likely to get an infection with the cauterization, but I'll keep him here with me for several days to observe him and help control the pain. He's lost a good deal of blood and his health is still at risk."

Gaius turned toward his tall medicine cabinet and rummaged around. After combing the shelves, he presented his helpers with small vials filled with golden liquid. "I insist everyone drink this tonic for the nerves," said the physician. As he dispensed the tonic, he told everyone, "I truly hope you never see anything worse than this in your lives. You were all very brave."

The friends simply stood there wordlessly, feeling overwhelmed and helpless, completely unsure of what to say or do. But they obeyed Gaius and drank the liquid.

Gaius went on to say, "Our friend will likely rouse soon, but he will need some peace and quiet tonight. You may all come back tomorrow."

Ulrich's eyes fluttered open and his gaze settled on Percival. "Why?" the young knight asked simply.

Every head in the room turned abruptly to face the massive knight. Percival knew what Ulrich was asking. Why had he allowed him to live?

"What's he asking?" Carina wanted to know.

Percival paused. "I'm not sure," he replied, though he knew exactly what the young knight was asking.

Ulrich rolled onto his side, his back turned toward everyone. "Leave me now," he muttered.

Gaius nodded, and the friends filed out of room, even the sobbing Carina. Christiane put her arm around her dear friend.

"You know," Gwaine suggested, "I think this is the time to get rightly pissed. I happen to be in possession of a large quantity of mead in my chambers. Anyone with me?" No one said a word; they simply followed Gwaine.

On the way to get drunk, Christiane told Percival, "I don't want my gift today. I want it on a different day. A happier one." He squeezed her hand lightly in understanding.

The blood-splattered friends entered the room soundlessly, and sat on the floor in a circle in front of the fireplace while Gwaine poured tankards of mead, distributed them, and then sat down with his own. "To Ulrich!" Gwaine said, tankard held high. Everyone repeated after him and began to drink.

A couple of hours passed filled with imbibing. The event started out very somber, but eventually, the mead loosened tongues, as it is wont to do. Gwaine told the story of how he'd bet Ulrich ten gold coins that the man couldn't hit a fleeing rabbit with his arrow from five hundred paces, but the talented young archer struck the animal. Percival told the group about how they'd convinced Ulrich as a new knight, he had to wear his breeches backwards for the first week of training. Poor Ulrich had done so for two days until Leon informed him it was a joke.

Carina, quite intoxicated by this time, asserted, "I taught him how to use his tongue on a woman, and he's excellent at it!"

Everyone stopped and stared for a moment, unsure how to react. Finally, Gwaine burst out cackling. "Can you teach me? That would be a great lesson," he roared, quite drunk himself.

Carina countered with, "Word has it you need no help in that area; your prowess is almost legendary."

They all collapsed with laughter. Until Carina began to cry. Christiane drew her best friend into a close hug, and Gwaine leaned over to squeeze the sobbing young woman's arm gently in support.

"I'm sorry, but I love Ulrich. I really do," Carina confessed, voice cracking with emotion. "And I'm going to tell him tomorrow. Arm or no, I love him."

"You should tell him," Christiane said supportively as she held her friend. "That's something he needs to hear right now."

Percival desperately wanted to comfort Carina and tell her about the conversation he'd had earlier with Ulrich, how the young knight had said he was going to propose marriage. But Percival didn't know if it was the right thing to do, so he remained silent.

Carina stood unsteadily and declared, "I'd like to go home now."

Everyone else stood, too, all somewhat wobbly-legged. Christiane, Percival, and Gwaine agreed they'd walk Carina home. In reality, they half-staggered Carina home. The friends sat with a weepy Carina in her cottage until she fell into a fitful sleep, then departed quietly.

On the short walk back to the castle, Christiane and Percival sauntered arm-in-arm. Gwaine studied them, and with his drink-loosened tongue admitted, "I need to find what you two have. Spending time with different women...it's just not fun anymore."

Christiane smiled, albeit a tad drunkenly. "Gwaine, when you're ready to settle down with one woman, you'll have your pick of the lot, I assure you. You just need to find the right woman to tame your heart!"

As they entered the castle, Gwaine sighed. "I suppose you're right. Be grateful that tonight, you get to share a bed with someone you love."

A morose Gwaine was very unusual, and Percival and Christiane felt for him as he wandered toward his chambers.

Christiane and Percival quite intoxicated, and should probably have been exhausted, given the type of evening they had, but instead, energy, probably adrenaline, coursed through their veins.

Christiane grabbed the fabric at the front of Percival's shirt as they entered their chambers and said, "I want you. Badly."

Percival excused himself to use the privy, assuring his wife he'd be back momentarily. When he entered the room again, he found Christiane up on all fours on the bed, stark naked, arse facing him. He knew she must be quite drunk. While she was enthusiastic in bed, this was more so than usual.

She turned and said, "Come here you big, sexy knight. I want your huge cock in me. From behind."

_Yes_, Percival thought, _very drunk._

"I think you're quite drunk. Maybe we should wait..."

Christiane waved off her husband's comment. "No. You're going to do it hard and fast. But first, I want you to do something for me."

He was slightly scared, and a bit intrigued. "What exactly would you have me do?"

"First," Christiane slurred very slightly, "take off those silly clothes. Then, I want to see how you touch yourself."

Percival had started to undress, but when he heard the last part of her demand, he felt a bit ill at ease. "I don't know if that's such a great idea," he said.

"Why not?" Christiane asked. "I'll go first."

She turned her arse toward him again and reached between her legs, touching herself, rubbing the center of her sex over and over. It was the most provocative and stimulating thing Percival had ever seen. He approached her, now naked himself. She turned to face him and insisted, "Now you."

Percival concluded it was only fair and grabbed his erection and began to stroke it. Christiane watched for a moment, noting he handled himself with more force than she normally did. She then turned away from him, still on all fours, smacking her own arse, inviting him inside of her.

Fairly intoxicated, Percival climbed onto the bed and rose to his knees behind Christiane. He fumbled for a moment, then steadied himself by grabbing her hips roughly and plunged into his wife, thrusting forcefully and fast. Christiane touched herself as he did so, moaning and calling out to Percival with excitement, "Oh, that is so good. Harder!" He complied, but was also worried he was hurting her. But the half-drunk knight figured it couldn't be so bad, as he felt her orgasm grip him and she screamed out his name as she'd never done before. A few more thrusts and he'd found his release as well.

Christiane turned over onto her back, spent. Percival looked down and noticed bruises darkening on her hips where he'd grabbed her, and instantly felt shame. He ran his fingers over the marks. "I've hurt you," he murmured.

"Where?" she asked and glanced at her hips. "Oh, that's nothing. I've done worse to your back with my nails." Her eyes drooped closed. "Just hold me while we sleep. I'm quite drunk."

Grinning slightly, Percival said, "I noticed."

He then pulled up the bed sheets around them and commented, "I know you said you didn't want your gift today, but would you reconsider? It might be useful."

Christiane's light snores answered the question. He'd wait until tomorrow.

XXXX

Morning arrived, clear and much cooler. While the previous evening had been filled with anxiety and sadness, like an excited child, Percival couldn't want to give Christiane her present. He woke her gently, and she groaned in response. With her eyes squeezed closed tightly, she told her husband, "I feel as if a thousand rats are gnawing at my brain."

Percival laughed. Fortunately, he felt fine. Not that he was a big drinker, but he had more experience imbibing than his wife.

He searched through the wardrobe for Gaius's hangover concoction and handed it to Christiane, who, as Gaius always suggested, drank it down in one fast gulp. As she finished the liquid and made a face as if she'd drunk something heinous and sour, Percival placed a large item draped with a sheet on the bed.

"Here's your present," he announced. "Happy birthday, love."

Christiane couldn't imagine what lay underneath. Feeling slightly better and a bit excited, she removed the covering and saw a large, rounded bag: a medicine bag, made of fine leather. She inhaled sharply; she never thought she'd have her own, and certainly nothing so fine.

"This is Gaius-approved," Percival explained. "Take a look inside."

Christiane carefully opened the latch, and found the bag well-stocked with all of the necessities: scissors, droppers, pliers, linen, and a suture kit. It also contained many common herbs and tinctures, such as sticklewort, comfrey, valerian, arnica, willow bark, marshmallow, mint, belladonna, agrimony, and yarrow.

Christiane was absolutely shocked. "Percival, this means more to me than I can say. It's a beautiful gift, thoughtful, and shows that you really support my work. I can never thank you enough for this." She threw her arms around him in thanks.

Percival was slightly surprised; certainly he supported his wife. Her happiness and joy meant everything to him.

"Of course I support you," he said.

Percival kissed Christiane lightly, pleased that his wife liked her gift. The man then changed the subject, as he was somewhat flustered by her emotional response.

"I was talking to Leon a few days ago," he offered, "before all of this chaos, and he mentioned his family owns a small cottage by the sea, rarely used. Once we've had this attack all sorted out, I was wondering if you'd like to take a night or so and visit. Leon said he would love it if someone actually used the place; no one in his family has been there in more than a year. I thought it might be nice to take a short journey together," said Percival with a casual shrug. "It's only about a half-day's ride. And it's quite a peaceful place, I take it."

Christiane's eyes grew wide. "I've never been to the sea," she admitted. "How ridiculous since it's only a few hours away. I would love to go! I want to eat fresh crab," she declared with excitement.

Percival chuckled lightly. "All right, then. Fresh crab, it is. And clams and mussels." He mentioned, "If you can ask Gaius about time off, I'm certain I can be granted a few days leave, as I've never taken any."

"You have no idea how excited I am! This is going to be a wonderful trip." Christiane's face fell suddenly as she remembered Ulrich's suffering. "But we need to wait until Ulrich is...better. It wouldn't be fair to leave him in such a state."

"I agree." Percival then told his wife, "I have to dress for a council meeting shortly, but I want to visit him briefly beforehand. Shall we go?"

"Yes."

Christiane and Percival arrived at the infirmary and found Carina already outside the door, leaning against the stone wall and sobbing.

"What's going on?" Christiane asked as she approached her friend, grasping the young woman's hands in support, worried Ulrich had taken a turn for the worse.

"Ulrich dismissed me," Carina wept. "I tried to visit him, and he told me to go away, he didn't want to see anyone. Gaius is talking to him right now, but I don't think it's going to help."

"Let me try talking to him," Percival offered.

He entered the chamber and saw a miserable-looking Ulrich in bed, pale as a ghost with impossibly black circles underneath his eyes. Percival had seen dead men look better.

"You!" Ulrich bellowed at Percival as the injured man sat up, jabbing an angry finger in the large knight's direction. "Just get away from me! Why didn't you let me die last night when I asked? Begged? Now, I have to live like this." Ulrich brandished the stump of his arm. "I don't want to see you or anyone!"

Ulrich struggled to his feet. "Tomorrow, once I can walk about, I'm going straight to the king to ask him to relieve me of my duties, and I'm leaving Camelot. For good! I'm not going to burden anyone with my damaged body." He paused to take a breath; it appeared as if his speech had sapped most of his energy. "Did you hear me? OUT!" he roared.

Gaius interjected, "Why don't the two of us step outside for a moment, Percival?"

The physician and Percival then exited the room while a teary-eyed Carina sat in the corridor with Christiane. Clearly, Carina had heard every word of Ulrich's declaration.

Gaius said to the three friends, "Ulrich's had a terrible loss and is still in a great deal of pain. He's going to need time, but he'll come 'round. He'll realize he loves Camelot and we want him here."

Carina was inconsolable. "Do you think King Arthur can convince Ulrich to stay?"

"Arthur visited the infirmary earlier this morning," Gaius explained. "The king thanked Ulrich over and over again for his bravery and sacrifice. And Arthur all but insisted that Ulrich return to his duties as a knight as soon as he's sufficiently healed. The king said, 'Ulrich, even with one arm, you're still more highly-skilled than most.'" Patting Carina's arm gently, Gaius said, "I'm sure Ulrich will take that into consideration before making any rash decisions."

With little else left to discuss, Gaius offered, "Best to let him rest for now and try visiting again tomorrow."

Carina, Christiane, and Percival walked away silently, with aching hearts.

XXXX

The following morning, Carina woke feeling frustrated. Angry, even. She dressed quickly and set out for the castle, ready to give Ulrich what-for. Carina didn't care if the man had one arm. She wouldn't care if he was poor as a beggar. She loved him, and that was all that mattered.

The miffed young woman barged right into the infirmary without an invitation, but she found the room empty and silent. The physician strolled in moments later.

"Ah, looking for Ulrich," said Gaius. "He had an audience with the king earlier and I believe he's in his quarters now."

Carina muttered a brief thanks and descended the stairs to Ulrich's chambers. She simply threw open the heavy wooden door to find Ulrich's large traveling bag open on his bed, and the man packing all of his worldly possessions.

"What the hell is going on?" she demanded angrily as she stormed inside.

"I'm leaving, Carina. I can't stay here like this," Ulrich asserted as he continued to pack, motioning to his partially-missing limb with his in-tact arm.

Carina appeared to swell with fury. "Oh. Is that how it is? Were you going to be man enough to stop and say goodbye?" she raged, now inches away from him.

Without looking at her, he said, "Yes. I was. On the way out of town. Arthur generously gave me a horse to take on my travels."

"And on your way out of town, had you thought at all to ask me to go with you? After all of those late-night talks of travel and adventure," she stepped even closer, practically pressed against Ulrich as she spat out, "in my BED?"

Making an effort to sound as detached as possible, Ulrich said, "No."

Hearing this simple declaration, Carina felt defeated and her shoulders slumped. "Did you ever care for me at all? I love you, Ulrich. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, but I do. How can you do this to me?"

Ulrich thought about the betrothal ring still in his pocket, and shouted, "Do what, exactly? Leave you with the burden of dealing with a one-armed former knight?"

He was perspiring and wan; Carina was concerned.

Her tone softened. "Can't you stay a little longer? Until you're better healed?" she asked, lightly touching the shirtsleeve that covered the stump of his arm.

Ulrich drew away from her sharply. "Woman, can't you see this is killing me? I love you," he admitted tearfully. "More than anything or anyone I have ever known. That's why I cannot stay here. You need to be able to live a full life with someone whole."

Carina responded, "Why don't I get to decide what I want? I don't give a damn that you have one arm. I'm terribly sorry that happened, but it doesn't change my feelings for you. If anything, it demonstrates your heroism and bravery, and that's to be commended and respected."

Ulrich knew he needed to leave that instant before he lost his nerve. In his mind, he could now never be the husband Carina deserved, and no amount of rational discourse could change his mind.

"Goodbye, Carina," he concluded as he tried to brush past her with his bag.

Carina was enraged that he could just leave her without a thought. Arm or no arm, she grabbed his shirt, pulled him toward her and backhanded him across the face. "Damn you, bastard!"

Clearly, she was furious with him. _Good,_ Ulrich thought. _Maybe she'll forget me more easily._

He extracted himself from her grip, said nothing more, and left.

Carina followed him out into the corridor. "I'm going to wait for you, you son-of-a-bitch!" she called out.

Ulrich never glanced back.

Severed arm burning and cramping, he walked away to the stables, mounted his horse, and set off to leave Camelot.

XXXX

Ulrich rode east for hours through the dense forest, blinded by his tears and ashamed of them. The previous night, through a haze of pain and misery, he'd resolved to travel to the coast and take a ship across the Narrow Sea, leaving Camelot for good. Perhaps he'd go to the Frankish Kingdom or Vasconia, maybe even as far as Persia. He had plenty of coin for such a voyage, as he'd saved most of his wages and Arthur had insisted he take a substantial gift for his services and dedication. Once he arrived at the coastline, he'd sell the horse or give her away; the pained young man simply didn't care.

As night fell, Ulrich knew his horse required rest and the knight chose to make camp in a small, isolated clearing in the woods. Frustrated by how difficult and slow the fire-making process was with only one arm, he shouted, "Fucking hell!" into the empty night before throwing his flint into the cold fire pit.

Suddenly, Ulrich thought he heard a whisper from the foliage that sounded like, "Forbearnan[6]," and a bright fire blazed forth in the circle of stones he'd arranged on the ground.

He withdrew his sword from his belt, feeling an undercurrent of fear, as he realized he'd never fought one-armed before.

"It's okay," a kind voice called out from the trees. "It's just me, Merlin." The young warlock stepped forth and revealed himself, and Ulrich sighed audibly with relief.

"Mind if I have seat?" Merlin requested politely.

Completely relieved, Ulrich sheathed his sword. "Not at all. Feel free," he offered, gesturing toward the now-blazing fire.

Merlin sat close to the flames and warmed his hands. "I'm on my way back to Camelot from Ealdor," he explained. "I heard about your arm and I'm sorry. What you did was very brave."

Ulrich was slightly taken aback. "How could you possibly know?"

Merlin shrugged. "Word travels fast in wizarding circles." He paused. "Can I ask what you're doing all the way out here?"

Ulrich stared directly at his visitor. "It seems as if you already know the answer."

"I have some sense of what's going on with you, but I hardly know everything. It's just that...I lost a great love once," Merlin admitted. "But I had no choice in the matter. I'd hate to see you throw away something special."

Ulrich was intrigued. "Will you tell me about her?"

Merlin went on to tell Ulrich the story of his love for Freya, a beautiful druid girl whom he'd saved from the savage bounty hunter, Halig. However, Freya was cursed to turn into a Bastet each night: a massive, black, cat-like creature with wings and a thirst for killing. Several of Camelot's inhabitants died at her hand while she was in this form, and Arthur dealt her a mortal blow when she was in her altered state.

Merlin choked up. "Freya and I had plans to leave Camelot, find a little cottage near a peaceful lake, and grow old together. Instead, I was forced to give her a funeral." With great sorrow, he admitted, "I miss her terribly and have never fallen in love again. I don't know if I can."

"That's terrible, Merlin," said Ulrich sincerely.

Merlin asked, "My question to you is, how can you willingly leave someone you love so much? Or, do you not really love Carina?"

Ulrich felt intensely angered by the man's inquiry. "I love her! More than anything!" He once again fumbled for the betrothal ring in his pocket. "I was planning to ask for her hand a few days ago," he said, brandishing the piece of jewelry. "I'm leaving _because_ I love her. Because I don't want her to live a life feeling ashamed and obligated to me."

Merlin carefully studied the young knight before he spoke. "Did she tell you she was ashamed? Or that she didn't want to be with you any longer?"

Ulrich sighed and poked at the forest floor with a stick before he mumbled, "No. Nothing like that. Quite the opposite, in fact."

The two talked for many hours, well into the night. Merlin had a talent for listening, and gently swaying people to his way of thinking. After a great deal of discussion, serious debate, and some tears, Ulrich realized his thoughts had been clouded by pain and trauma, and he'd been a selfish fool.

"I just want my arm back," the young knight said sadly. "And to be able to shoot again." Shakily, he fretted, "I want my old life back and I know I can't have it. That's what's killing me. That, and the pain."

Merlin nodded his head slowly in understanding, and interjected, "Have you decided to return to Camelot, then?"

"Yes," Ulrich capitulated. "In the morning, after a touch of sleep."

Merlin said happily, "That's what I wanted to hear."

After a moment of quiet, the warlock explained, "You know, magic has its benefits. I can perform a spell that'll help reduce your pain greatly." He also offered, "And when we get back to Camelot, I can create a false arm for you. You'd have to strap it on each morning, but you'd be able to hold a bow at least. You may not be quite the skilled shooter you were before, but it's something."

"You'd do that?" Ulrich asked brightly, feeling hopeful for the first time in days. Merlin nodded. "Thank you, so much. I don't know what I did to deserve your kindness, but I appreciate your help more than you'll ever know."

Merlin told Ulrich simply, "You saved Arthur and the queen and that makes you a worthy hero. They're very dear to me and this is the least I can do in thanks."

As Ulrich began to set up his bedroll, Merlin said, "Before we get some rest, let's do the healing spell."

The warlock moved toward a seated Ulrich and held his hands just above the missing arm, as if feeling for something. "The pain is deep within you," Merlin observed. "I'll do my best to relieve as much of it as I can."

Merlin paused, took a deep breath and said, "Astyrung þisses ádl![7]" as his eyes flashed gold for the briefest of moments.

All at once, Ulrich felt a tingling sensation on the skin of his injured arm, not unlike the soothing touch of a warm summer rain. This feeling then spread throughout the rest of the young knight's body. It was certainly an odd sensation, but pleasant, and somehow calming and healing. About a half-minute later, the spell had ended, and Ulrich's arm hurt no more than a bad bruise.

"That is absolutely amazing. I can never thank you enough," Ulrich said with both shock and gratitude as he rotated his limb in a circle, noting how much better it felt.

The two men then proceeded to settle onto their bedrolls. Just before Ulrich drifted off to sleep, he muttered, "I just hope Carina will have me back."

XXXX

After a mere couple of hours of rest, Ulrich was anxious to be on the move. It was barely sunrise when he shook a sleepy and cranky Merlin awake and told him they'd better get going. If they rode hard, Ulrich would make it in time to the Camelot market before it closed, and he knew Carina would be selling her candles that day. Where, precisely in the market, he didn't know, since the merchants changed the locations of their stalls each day. Hopefully, in public, she'd be less likely to escape from him. And perhaps she wouldn't slap him as forcefully.

Ulrich pushed the horses as hard as he could, stopping only for brief breaks. He promised himself he'd give his horse and Merlin's a bushel of apples once in Camelot.

Finally, after hours of hard riding, the men arrived at the city border. Merlin told Ulrich he'd be happy to take his horse to the stables while the knight searched the marketplace for Carina. Ulrich shouted a thanks at Merlin as he ran off to find his love.

The market seemed particularly vast and crowded on this autumn day. It was as if every merchant in the Five Kingdoms had chosen to show up, as well as every inhabitant, all desperate to sell or to make purchases. After about ten minutes of searching, Ulrich finally found Carina at her stand. Even exhausted-looking and extra-pale, she was still a captivating beauty. He knew what he had to do.

Ulrich muscled his way to her stall. Once he'd caught her eye, she lifted her chin, and asked tartly, "And what brings _you_ back to Camelot?" But he saw her lip quiver slightly.

Ulrich wasn't one to make a show of things, nor did he enjoy attracting a lot of attention to himself. Which made what he was about to do all the more challenging. But Carina was worth it.

In the middle of the bustling crowd, Ulrich dropped to one knee, and yelled out, "Carina, I've been a selfish arse." Some shoppers gasped and covered their children's ears, but didn't walk away from the spectacle. "I love you with everything I have and I can't stand the thought of spending one more moment away from you. You are brilliant and kind and wonderful, and I ask that you grant me the privilege of becoming my wife."

The young knight then pulled the betrothal ring from his pocket and held it out toward her, head lowered, waiting.

The market-goers fell dead silent and gaped at Carina, eagerly awaiting her answer.

Carina stepped out from behind the counter and loomed over Ulrich, hands on her hips. "I'll think on it," she replied sharply, as the crowd looked on with a touch of disbelief.

As Ulrich thought that answer was better than a direct "no," he stood, and she grasped his face with both hands and said, "I've thought about it. Yes."

"Yes?" he asked in disbelief.

"Yes!"

Ulrich drew Carina toward him with his good arm and kissed her fiercely, with the happy crowd cheering in approval. He stepped back slightly and slid the ring onto her finger; it fit perfectly. "I want you to be my bride as soon as possible," Ulrich told his new fiancée.

"Then it looks like we'd better start planning a wedding," Carina said cheerfully, then heartily kissed her betrothed. Again.

* * *

><p>[6] The literal translation of "Forbearnan" is "burn up" in Old English. In this case, it is a spell Merlin uses to start a fire.<p>

[7] Astyrung þisses ádl means, "Remove this pain" in Old English. I used an Old English online translator.


	15. Chapter 15 A Seaside Trip

**A/N - Our poor Ulrich in chapter fourteen! Can you believe the man lost his arm? I'm glad he came to his senses and returned to Carina. And there will be another wedding. Hooray! I know the scene where Ulrich lost his arm and the subsequent medical treatment he received was fairly graphic, but I wanted to drive-home the fact the poor guy had really suffered. **

**During chapter fifteen, Christiane and Percival take a belated honeymoon. However, there is a big...BIG warning for this chapter - there's violence and a sexual assault. Please be warned, it may be upsetting to some. It's a very significant event, but please do skip it if this is something that will upset/trigger you. There's also a good bit of profanity. I don't want to make anyone unhappy!**

**Again, your support and kindness mean more to mean than you know.**

Chapter 15 - A Seaside Trip

Later that very evening, Percival and Christiane hosted a small dinner party to celebrate Carina and Ulrich's engagement. The hosts, Ulrich, Carina, Leon, Gwaine, Gaius, and Merlin all ate and drank happily. The friends made many kind, then several ribald toasts to the newly-engaged couple. It was all in good fun, and the attendees enjoyed themselves greatly.

Over a meal of pork and fruit pie, Ulrich told the story of how he met Merlin in the woods and the man helped him see the error of his ways. He further explained about the healing spell Merlin used, and about the prosthetic arm he would try out soon.

"Just as long as he doesn't bring that hard thing into bed," Carina teased, as she leaned toward Ulrich and put her arm around his shoulders.

"You _want_ him to bring that 'hard thing' into bed, Carina," Gwaine countered.

She retorted, "_That_ thing is plenty hard and big, I assure you."

While everyone chortled, Gaius stood and said, "This is a bit bawdy for an old man, and I'm quite tired. Have a pleasant evening, all. I must excuse myself now." But as he departed with his back turned, he had a slight smile on his face.

After Gaius took his leave, the discussion turned to the recent attack on Arthur and Guinevere. The knights had determined it was two Picts of the North[8] who had coordinated the assault, based on the some of the adornments they found on their dead bodies. The would-be assassins had managed to kill several armory guards, stealing their helmets and capes, allowing the intruders to masquerade as knights of Camelot. The Picts still held a grudge against Arthur for a crushing defeat they'd suffered at his hands at few years prior. Many of them were still disgruntled and took revenge where they could. The king and council were still determining how to respond to this attack.

"Let's not turn to sad-talk!" Gwaine insisted. "To the happy couple!" he toasted. The party raised their cups in agreement.

For a time, the partygoers discussed Christiane and Percival's upcoming seaside trip, and Leon told the couple where they could find some interesting ancient caves on the beach near the cottage. "It's a very beautiful and private place," Leon explained, while Gwaine made suggestions about how the husband and wife might best use their "private" time.

But the hour grew late and everyone elected to retire. Since Ulrich had been graciously welcomed back into King Arthur's fold, not only did Arthur offer him the job of archery instructor in addition to his duties as a knight (which would be slightly modified), he also offered the young knight private living quarters. Ulrich rather liked his present bedchamber, and his roommate, Michael, happily agreed to move into a different, larger bedchamber.

Ulrich invited Carina to his room, and she enthusiastically accepted his invitation. However, he insisted they remain virgins (by the strictest definition of the word) until their wedding night three weeks hence. As a knight, Ulrich took his code of chivalry seriously. Yet when he looked upon his fiancée's tantalizing body as they entered his now-private chambers, he sighed, knowing it was going to be a very long three weeks.

XXXX

The night before their trip, Christiane was so excited that she scarcely slept. Just before dawn, she finally woke Percival (with great effort). "Can we please leave now?" she asked with excitement, her eyes gleaming.

Percival was hardly able to see straight at such an early hour. He peered out of their window, and observed the sun hadn't fully risen. "It's not even dawn!" he insisted with a slight whine. Christiane slumped slightly. Obviously, she couldn't contain herself and was eager to leave. That instant. "On second thought, better to get an early start," he acquiesced.

Christiane raced around the room, dressing and gathering their bags. She casually mentioned, "You know, my courses haven't come yet. They were due a couple of days ago."

Percival rolled his eyes with good humor and insisted, "It's because you're pregnant, love."

"Don't say that! I feel like they will come soon. And I don't want to get our hopes up."

Percival teased, "I'll bet you a gold coin you don't get your courses and you're with child."

Christiane giggled and said, "Wager accepted! Can we go now?"

It was an overcast and cool day, perfect for riding. The couple had agreed to take the trip at a slow, leisurely pace. For the first time since their abrupt wedding, they had no obligations and time together alone.

As they rode side-by-side, Percival pondered how lucky he was. He knew many men who married for convenience, titles, status, lands, or riches. He'd married for love, and felt that was a true gift.

Christiane turned to her husband and asked, "What are you thinking about?"

"Just that I'm a lucky man to have you," he answered truthfully. His wife smiled broadly, radiant, as always.

"Let's stop for a spell," Percival said. "I have something to give you."

"But, we've just set out!" Christiane protested, although they'd been riding for a couple of hours already.

"Oh, nonsense. We'll still arrive before the sun reaches its zenith." He dismounted and rummaged in his saddlebag.

"What are you doing?" Christiane asked with impatience. "You're not looking for food, are you? I'm not hungry, so let's carry on!"

Percival held something in the palm of his hand and said, "Please, Wife, so antsy!"

He helped Christiane down from her horse and told his wife, "We've been married for over four months, and you have only your betrothal ring." He took her hand and slipped a thick, intricately-carved silver band on her finger.

Christiane gasped. "Percival! That is too fine a ring!"

"It's not nearly as fine as you," he said honestly. "It took the silversmith longer than I'd hoped. And since we never had a proper wedding, this is the least you deserve." He motioned toward her hand and said, "Actually, take it off for a moment and look inside."

She did so and saw an inscription of _Amor Vincit Omnia. _"Latin," Christiane whispered. "What does it mean?"

Percival took Christiane's face in his hands, gazed into her eyes, and said, "Love conquers all." He kissed her softly.

"It's stunning and I adore it," she announced after their kiss. "But can we carry on now?"

Percival laughed at her enthusiasm. "Yes, yes, let's go."

They traveled onward. Although a soft rain had begun to fall during the last hour of their trip, Christiane insisted they continue without a break. She was mesmerized by the changing and beautiful landscape. It transformed rather gradually from dense forest to sand and tall, scruffy seagrass. The scent of the air changed, too, from the sweet smell of pine and moist dirt to the sharp, clean smell of salt and sea.

The rain began to come down in earnest, but Christiane didn't care. She felt intoxicated by the smell of the sea and the sight of it in the distance. As they rode, she stretched her arms out, tipped her face skyward and allowed the rain water soak her.

By the time the couple reached the beachside cottage, the rain had finally ceased, but they were still utterly drenched. They tied up the horses in the small stable, fed and watered them, and raced inside to dry off.

Although they were anxious to remove their wet clothing, Percival and Christiane took a few minutes to explore the quaint stone home. It was really one very large, airy, open room with a steep roof and a loft for sleeping. As they discovered, the cottage was quite well-appointed with several chairs, a substantial oak-wood dining table, a massive fireplace with a hearthrug in front of it, a comfortable sitting bench, and what appeared to be a soft feather bed in the loft.

Christiane was charmed by the beautiful and rare shells that dotted the interior walls of the cottage. The shells had been pressed carefully into the lime mortar and there were hundreds and hundreds of them adorning the space. She'd never seen anything like it before and ran her hands over the sea shells in admiration and awe.

And the views from the cottage were breathtaking; from the many large windows, they could see straight to the vast ocean.

After their brief exploration of the premises, Percival began to strip off his wet attire. "Even though I've sat in soaking-wet clothing for days on patrols, I'll never like it!" he declared.

"You'd probably like it even less in a soaked dress," Christiane teased, as she began to unlace her traveling gown.

The intent had been to get changed quickly and find the nearby caves on the beach. But with his wife standing there naked, Percival knew the only thing he wanted to explore at this moment was her body. He rushed up to Christiane and tossed her over his shoulder. She shrieked playfully as he ran up the stairs with her to the loft, then plopped her on the bed, pinning her arms over her head.

"I'm going to make you call out my name four times today. And that's a conservative estimate," he boasted.

"Four?" she asked incredulously.

"Twice now, twice later," said Percival, as he let go of her arms and kissed his way down her body to the apex of her thighs. He began his work with his tongue, moving it against the center of her sex with exquisite pressure and speed. Just as he could sense she was going to come apart, he slowed down, then brought her to the edge again.

He did this over and over, until she ran her fingers through his short hair, arching her back, begging, "Please, please..."

Once she'd come forcefully, crying out his name (as predicted), Percival said, "That's one."

Christiane responded, "I don't think I'll survive two through four!" She went on to joke, "And the more important question is, how will we find time to eat crab?" They both shook with laughter.

After luxuriating in bed for a while longer, and inching one step close to Percival's goal of "four," they chose search for lunch by the sea. Mussels and clams were plentiful and easy to find. Spider crabs were a little more challenging, but with some searching, they located a few. Christiane was delighted that their bucket overflowed with this seafood bounty.

Percival couldn't remember a time where his wife seemed happier or more relaxed, the sea air blowing through her dark locks and a wide smile on her face the whole time. Her happiness made him long for children even more: a family with whom they could share their joy. In his mind's eye, he saw a little boy with light curls running up and down the sand, while Christiane carried a plump baby on her hip. In this vision, her belly was slightly rounded, indicating another one was on the way.

"My, you're looking very thoughtful again," Christiane observed as she collected a few final mussels.

"Just daydreaming," he offered. Percival didn't think Christiane would respond very favorably if he admitted he dreamed of a passel of children.

The knight then suggested, "If you want to go inside and fetch a large pot, I can start a fire right here and we can cook our lunch on the beach. Leon told me it doesn't take long to boil these."

Christine returned with the pot, filled it with water, and set it on the flames. Percival washed and cleaned the shells, then dumped them inside of the vessel. The happy couple sat together in the sand, holding hands, enjoying the cool breeze on the overcast day, waiting for their meal to cook.

"After we eat, I think I'm going to take a quick splash in the water. Just to feel the sea on my skin and clean up a bit," Christiane said.

"You must be mad!" Percival barked. "That water's freezing and it's cloudy. You'll catch a death of a chill."

"Oh, no I won't. Don't be so overprotective," Christiane admonished. "We'll can stoke the fire in the cottage first, then run right out of the water into the warmth."

"'We?'" Percival asked with mock surprise. "I have to be part of this little adventure, too?"

Christine stuck out her bottom lip in jest. "If you love me, you will."

One side of Percival's mouth curled up in a grin. "No question, then. I'll be freezing my bollocks off in the water with you."

As soon as lunch was done cooking, the husband and wife sat and ate their meal until they were nearly stuffed. At home, shellfish was a rare treat. Most of the seafood they consumed was caught in the lake, dried, or salted. It certainly wasn't the same as the delicious, briny, fresh clams, mussels, and crab they were enjoying.

Christiane fell back onto the sand, proclaiming, "I am so unbelievably full that I need a nap before taking a dip." Percival wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Not that kind of nap!" his wife insisted with chuckle. "I'm talking about one where a person actually gets some rest."

The couple cleaned up the remnants of their meal and headed back to the cottage to take a short, restorative nap.

An hour or so later, the two felt better rested, and elected to explore the ancient stone caves situated toward the edge of the beach on the grey and windy afternoon. As Leon had promised, the caves, composed of jagged and porous rock, were quite a sight. Some were smaller, but many had ceilings over twenty feet high. A few caves were so close in proximity to the surf that the sea flowed in gently, covering the sand floor by only an inch or so. Overall, they kept out the chill and were quite comfortable.

Inside one of the dry caves, Christiane stripped out of her clothing. Percival wondered what she was thinking when she sprinted out of the cave suddenly, splashing into the water naked. She laughed and screamed in the frigid surf. Percival disrobed and joined her a few moments later. The instant he entered the waves, she leapt into his arms, wrapped her legs around him, and firmly placed her salty lips against his.

"Maybe we should try for number three right now," Christiane suggested with a playful nip to Percival's ear.

Immediately he grabbed her hips and slid her down onto his rigid cock. While the first few moments of this activity were very enjoyable, with Christiane moving vigorously up-and-down his length and Percival gripping her hips and guiding her movements, they both began to notice the chill. Followed by unbearable cold. Percival paused a moment, and saw his wife's lips were slightly blue.

"I think it's time we took this inside, eh?" Percival said.

Through chattering teeth Christiane responded with, "Good idea."

The freezing and soaked couple raced back to the cave, dressed carelessly, and ran to the cottage, all in less than a few minutes. Fortunately, the fire still burned dimly in the hearth, and Percival tended to it until the flames roared to life once again. He and Christiane sat in front of the warmth, covered in whatever blankets they could find, waiting for their teeth to stop chattering and their bones to cease aching with cold.

"Perhaps that wasn't the best idea," Christiane admitted.

Percival remained silent for a moment. "Perhaps not."

Again, laughter overtook them.

For the remainder of the late afternoon and evening, the now-warm couple chose to stay inside of the cottage to escape the chill, as the winds outside had picked up significantly. The fire blazed cheerfully, and the husband and wife made a thick stew with some of the supplies they'd brought, in addition to a generous handful of shellfish they'd collected a few hours prior. Once more, Christiane and Percival found themselves full, and dozed off in front of the hearth.

They both woke sometime later to harsh, guttural voices conversing in a foreign language directly outside of the cottage windows. That was completely unexpected, since the area was so isolated.

Percival held his fingers to his lips, urging his wife to be silent, and crossed the room stealthily to retrieve his sword. As he moved, the door swung open with a fierce crash. Two men with long, tangled hair barged in, faces and arms painted with intricate designs. They brought Percival down with fists and hammers before he was able to reach his weapon.

Christiane willed herself to stay calm as she rushed to her fallen husband's side. "There must be a misunderstanding," she addressed the intruders, her voice shaking slightly.

A third man entered the room; he looked similar to the other others, but he alone spoke Percival and Christiane's language.

"No misunderstanding, lass," he insisted loudly. "This house has been deserted for years and we've used it as a resting point. Now we find the two of you here, using _our_ place."

His accent and appearance gave away the fact Christiane and Percival were dealing with three very hostile Picts of the North, Camelot's sworn enemy.

Percival, still on the ground, leg-swept one of the men, only to be smacked over the head by the other man's sword hilt, rendering the large knight unconscious.

"Stop, please!" Christiane begged as she covered her husband's body with her own. "We'll leave at once. We mean you no harm."

The man-in-charge leered at her. "Nay, lass, I think we shall stay and have some fun together before you take your leave."

As he spoke, the two other men kicked Christiane to the side and heaved an unconscious Percival to his feet. They tied his wrists to the rafters above with rope secured from their belts, allowing the unconscious knight's head to loll.

In a moment of absolute clarity, ice-cold dread coursed through Christiane's veins. She knew exactly where this was run-in was headed, and understood it would likely end in her and her husband's deaths, but with plenty of pain and humiliation beforehand.

One of the Picts muttered, "Gurid," garnering his leader's attention, and motioned toward a nearby chair where Percival's clothing lay neatly folded.

"Ah, I see the Pendragon crest on your fine man's cape. Pendragon, our sworn enemy," Gurid said with a flourish. He knelt down and moved his face close to Christiane's; she was still on the floor. "Why don't we play a fun little game? What do you say?"

Gurid spoke to the other two men in his own guttural language, and one man uncorked his wineskin and tossed what smelled like alcohol in Percival's face, waking the knight. Percival was disoriented for a moment, sputtered, and then said, "When I free myself from these ropes, you bastards are dead. All three of you."

Gurid cackled mercilessly as he approached Percival. "Is that so? You're tied up pretty securely there, my friend. I highly doubt you'll be able to free yourself. You can try." He strode back over to Christiane and began to stroke her hair, then grabbed a fistful of it, jerking her to her feet with ferocity. She struggled, and Gurid caught a flash of her wedding band, and proclaimed, "In the meantime, we'll be fucking your wife!"

The other men chortled, clearly understanding the sentiment, while Percival strained against his bonds as fiercely as possible. One of the men walked up to Percival and poked him in the chest, jeering, and the knight spat in his face.

Dismissively, Gurid said, "No matter. Once he's got his cock buried deep in your woman here, we'll see who's won, Camelot soldier."

The Pict resumed stroking Christiane's hair with one hand as he kept a tight grip on her long locks with the other.

Percival realized this was an incredibly desperate situation. He and his wife were on their own against these three men, and no one was going to come to their aid. It was a terrifying and sobering notion.

"Please," Percival begged, "please don't. I'll do anything! Cut my throat, beat me to death, whatever you want; just let her go."

Gurid stopped stroking Christiane's hair, but still held the strands within his fist. Through narrowed eyes, he asked Percival, "You'd do _anything_?"

The knight nodded his head solemnly.

"Suck my cock would you? Take it up the backside?" he asked viciously. "Would you do it if we promised to let your pretty little wife go?" Percival began to shudder with fear. "Answer, me, you big bastard!" the Pict demanded.

Percival nodded his head in the affirmative.

"Say it!" Gurid demanded. "Out loud! Say you would do it!"

Percival whispered, "I would do it."

And Percival knew he _would_ do it. If his wife could get away unharmed and untouched, he'd submit himself to whatever horrifying and humiliating torture these men cared to dole out. He only hoped they'd execute him afterward.

Yanking Christiane's head back further, nearly pulling her hair out by the roots, the man urged, "Louder. I can't hear you."

"I'll do it!" Percival yelled, disgrace flooding him.

Gurid roared with laughter in response. "You're not exactly my type, lad," the head-Pict said with amusement. "I prefer the womenfolk."

The man released his grip on Christiane's hair and she boldly walked up to her husband, put her hands on his face and kissed him. "It's okay," she whispered. "I'll get this over with and we can have our leave."

"No, no!" Percival screamed hysterically as she walked back to the Pict. "Don't!"

Christiane turned and faced Gurid. "What will you have me do?" she asked, her back straight, chin lifted defiantly, trying to muster as much pride as she could.

"Ah, willing then, are you? Let's have you pull down your top, lift up your skirts, and lie on the table right here."

Christiane undid the laces at the front of her dress and let the fabric fall open, exposing her breasts as the men whistled their approval. Percival thought he was going to be sick, and struggled against the ropes with everything he had, until a man kicked him in the gut, knocking the wind out of the restrained.

"I won't be willing if you hurt him," Christiane told them.

"Fine, fine," the head man said. "Get on the table!"

She leaned her body over the table, thinking it might not be as bad if she didn't have to look at their faces when they took her.

"Nay, not good enough. Get on your back and spread your legs," Gurid commanded. "Now!"

She complied, pressing her back against the solid wood, allowing her legs to dangle off the edge.

Gurid moved in on her and began to squeeze her breasts hard with his calloused hands. He smelled of alcohol and unwashed-man.

"Your tits could be bigger I suppose, but they'll do," he announced, as he drew her nipple into his mouth, sucking it and biting it, then pinching both between his thumb and forefinger. His rough beard scratched her chest. Christiane willed herself not to scream or cry.

"Please, please stop. I'll do anything if you just let her go," Percival pleaded.

"Will you gag that bastard before I lose my cockstand?!" Gurid demanded in Pictish.

His accomplices did as requested, and Percival found himself silenced with a filthy rag stuffed into his mouth and tied around his head.

"Now then, where were we?" Gurid asked.

Christiane made sure her face was turned away from Percival. She didn't want her beloved to see her tears. If they lived, she was going to tell him it wasn't so bad, as she knew the guilt would tear him apart.

The head man kept licking, sucking, and pinching Christiane's breasts, making disgusting and exaggerated moaning sounds the whole time. He then moved his hands between her legs and fondled her roughly, then dropped his trousers and drawers. Percival gagged at the sight, afraid he might vomit.

"Dry as a bone, I see," Gurid observed. "Not enjoying this, are you? Maybe I'll lick you until you scream. I'll bet you taste sweet."

The Pict began to run his tongue down her body, and Christiane was horrified. No man besides Percival had ever touched her like this. She started to feel nauseous and panicked, but knew if she didn't allow it, the men would likely slit her husband's throat, and then hers.

Gurid stopped his licking inches away from her delicate parts. He didn't use his mouth as he threatened, but kept pawing at her folds, pinching at them roughly. She gasped in pain, quietly.

"I'll have you suck my cock a bit to moisten things up," said Gurid, as he grabbed her by the hair and forced her off the table onto the floor. Christiane landed solidly on her hands and knees, but was so distressed she felt no pain.

The young woman rose to her knees in front of the head man, whose trousers and drawers remained around his ankles. Percival thrashed wildly, noticing the rope that bound him to the rafters loosened ever so slightly. The two men at his side were too busy watching the assault at hand to pay attention, eagerly waiting their turn. If Percival tried to free himself with all the strength he had, he might be able to snap the rope.

Christiane caught Percival's eye briefly and raised her brow a fraction. She had something planned and wanted him to wait. She turned back to her rapist and grabbed the base of his cock forcefully.

"Ah, like it rough, I see," he insisted.

Christiane bent forward as if to take Gurid into her mouth, but instead, she bit down with incredible force, sending him staggering back a few steps. As he stumbled, she punched him in the bollocks as hard as she could, grabbed his belt-dagger, and drove it into his lower gut over and over. He fell to the floor with a resounding crash.

Simultaneously, Percival was able to snap his rope, and in an instant, he smashed the two remaining men with the force of both tightly-bound fists. The men dropped instantly. Percival removed the rest of the rope from his wrists swiftly and broke both of the surviving Picts' necks in two quick movements.

He scrambled over to Christiane while removing his gag. She was still on her knees near Gurid's dead form.

"How badly did he hurt you?" Percival asked, tearfully. He already felt humiliated beyond belief for being unable to protect his wife; a few tears no longer mattered.

"I'm fine, really," she insisted, albeit somewhat shakily. "More embarrassed than anything else. To be exposed like that."

Percival cupped her face. "You were so brave. So damn fierce." He then glanced at the three dead bodies. "I'll put them in the sea," he said and began to drag them outside into the cold and windy night.

It took a while to accomplish this task, and in the meantime, Christiane heated water over the fire to pour into the small wooden tub they'd discovered earlier, grateful that she and Percival had taken the time to bring in a few buckets of fresh water during the afternoon. She wanted to wash the feel of Gurid off of her skin. Unfortunately, there was no easy way to scrub her attacker's memory from her mind. By the time Percival was done tending to the bodies and had returned to the warmth of the cottage, Christine had eased herself into the warm water, pinning her hair up and out of the way.

Percival had absolutely no idea what to do or say. He finally settled on, "Can I help wash you?"

Christiane nodded as she leaned back against the tub's edge, her eyes drifting closed as Percival took a cloth and washed her arms and neck tenderly.

"Shall we leave straight away?" asked Percival, tending to his wife carefully.

Christiane opened her eyes. "No. I'd like to stay and get some sleep. We can set out in the morning."

"Okay." Percival then told her, "I really want you to see Gaius when we're back in Camelot. So he can check you to make sure you're all right."

"Short of some bruised skin and pride, there's nothing to be done. I'll be fine, trust me," Christiane assured her husband. "I'm just glad it's over and you did away with those other men before they had a chance to touch me."

As he continued to bathe his wife, Percival had no idea how he was ever going to recover from failing to protect her. That was a husband's first and most important duty – keeping his wife safe, and Percival had failed to do so. He felt weak, inept, and inadequate. Guilt and humiliation consumed the miserable knight, and he wondered if the feeling would ever end.

* * *

><p>[8] The Picts of the North were one-time enemies of King Arthur. They resided mostly in what we now call Scotland. They left no written records, but were commonly regarded as fierce warriors. Here is a link if you'd like more information - historypicts/


	16. Chapter 16 Good Counsel

**A/N - If you finished chapter fifteen, you're at about the halfway point of this story. That's good and bad, right? ;) **

**Both Christiane and Percival suffered terribly during chapter fifteen. How do you think they'll cope with the aftermath? Percival is really devastated. What will this do to their marriage long-term? But I have to say, Christiane is one strong and amazing woman. I adore her. It's funny, when you write, it's as if these characters are actually alive in your head, and I truly love them all. **

**In chapter sixteen, Percival's still having a tough time, King Arthur makes a confession, and Ulrich has his bachelor party. And of course, Gwaine gets a bit wild during and after the party. And there will be another wedding very, very soon. **

**Also, wanted to note I have been going back and correcting mistakes I have made. I can't believe after reading and reviewing each chapter about 100 times, I STILL pick up mistakes regularly! **

**And welcome to rouseymousey65, a new follower. I'm so happy to have you following my story. **

**I appreciate your continued support. Onward!**

Chapter 16 – Good Counsel

The next morning, Percival and Christiane rode back to Camelot in near silence. Christiane tried to engage her husband in conversation, but for the most part, it fell on deaf ears. When they stopped briefly to eat, Percival said he wasn't hungry, and insisted they move on as quickly as possible.

Needless to say, it wasn't a very pleasant trip home.

Once they'd arrived back at Camelot, Percival left the horses and bags with the stable boy without any acknowledgement, which was not like him. He hadn't been raised as a noble and always took extra care to express thanks to service people. Christine knew something was very wrong.

Percival grasped his wife's elbow, and insisted, "I'm taking you to see Gaius straight away."

She carefully withdrew her elbow from his grip. In that instant, she noticed how terrible he looked - white as a ghost with black circles under his eyes, an angry and jagged cut on his scalp, his jaw tight.

"I'm fine," Christiane said mildly. "I have a few small bruises that just need to fade. But if you absolutely insist I see someone, it would need to be the midwife. I'm not having Gaius look at my breasts and other bits of my anatomy."

Percival winced at the thought. "You're right; I'm sorry. Let's go to Mary right now."

"Wait a moment," said Christiane with care. "I believe _you_ could do with a visit to Gaius. You were beaten and knocked unconscious. And to be frank, you look awful."

"I've suffered far worse than that in the past. Come, we're going to see Mary," Percival said as he marched her out of the castle grounds.

Half an hour later, Mary concluded her examination. She confirmed that Christiane suffered nothing more than a few bruises and scrapes. Mary talked to her patient at length about how she might have some nightmares about her attack and feel unsettled for a time, but it was better to talk about those feelings than to hold them in.

"If you need someone to talk to, child, my door is open, day or night," Mary offered kindly.

She concluded their visit with, "Would you mind waiting outside for a moment, Christiane? I'd like to speak with young Percival here for a moment." Christiane agreed and stepped outside.

Mary stood rose to her full height in front of Percival, which was a foot-and-a-half shorter than he. "Well, what's gotten into you? Are you sick? Hurt?" she demanded.

"Yes," he answered simply. "My mind is sick. My soul is hurt. I can't get the thought out of my head of that pig touching my wife and how I failed to protect her." With finality he said, "I can't forgive myself."

"I see," replied Mary. "Christiane's not upset with you at all, but she will be if you continue to carry on like this."

Percival simply stared at the floor, eyes blank. Mary felt for the poor man and tried to reassure him. "You killed two men with your bare hands, and I promise, if it wasn't for you, they'd have had a turn with her and the outcome would have been far worse." She paused, then suggested, "Why don't you have a chat with King Arthur about this?"

"The king?" asked Percival, surprised. "I couldn't possibly bother the king with this."

Mary put a supportive hand on his shoulder. "He might be able to help more than you think. Will you consider it?"

He sighed heavily. "I will."

As he turned to leave, Mary said, "And Percival? Make sure you eat some supper tonight."

Supper in Percival and Christiane's chambers was more of the same. Percival was silent and melancholy as he picked at his food. Normally, he loved nice, flavorful onion-stuffed beef rolls, but on this day, they tasted like ash in his mouth.

"Percival, please see Gaius. I'll take you to him now, if you'd like," said Christiane with compassion.

"Here you are, comforting me, when I should be the one taking care of you." Percival stopped picking at his meal. "Gaius can't fix what ails me, unless he can fix my mind and heart." He gave her a haunted look. "I failed you and can't forgive myself."

Christiane set down her utensils. "Percival, if you hadn't been there, I would have been thrice raped and killed. There's nothing to forgive; it was simply a terrible chance event."

He looked so forlorn Christiane couldn't bear it. She stood, walked around to his side of the table, put her arms around him and whispered, "Forget about this meal. Take me to bed."

Percival was shocked. "After all that, you still want to go to bed with me?"

"Of course," she said. "Your touch always helps me feel better."

For the first time since he had lain eyes on Christiane all of those months ago, Percival felt no desire, but if it made his wife feel better, he'd try.

Christiane undressed slowly, then took her time removing Percival's clothing, kissing his neck and chest as she went along. Normally, he had an erection instantly, but this time, nothing happened. She drew him into the bed, and took his length into her hand. Still nothing. This was as surprising to Percival as it was to Christiane.

"I'm sorry," he said, chagrined and embarrassed. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Shhh," Christiane whispered, as she moved her head between his legs and took him into her mouth, moving slowly and carefully. His erection sprang to life, but as soon as she stopped and tried to climb on top of him, it went flaccid. She tried once again, with the same results.

"Why don't you let me give you some pleasure?" he asked as he kissed his way down her body, but she could sense his heart wasn't in it.

"You know, I'm quite tired," she said. "Maybe tomorrow morning?"

Percival appeared wounded. "All right. We can try again in the morning, I promise you."

Christiane fell into a deep slumber shortly thereafter. Percival knew he'd never be able to sleep, so he brought their dinner plates down to the kitchen and washed them, just to keep his hands busy and mind occupied.

The kitchen maids stared at Percival; they'd never seen a knight in their domain, much less one cleaning. But he ignored their curious glances and spent a good ten minutes meticulously washing plates, yet had no idea what to do with himself once his task was done. He didn't feel as if he could face Gwaine at that moment, so he chose to sit in the gardens, as Christiane often did when she needed some peace.

The night was cold and clear. Percival found a stone bench and sat, hoping he'd think of a way to forgive himself and return to normal. Out of nowhere, a man wearing a blue traveling cloak strode up to the bench and lowered his hood; it was King Arthur.

"Sire, what are you doing out here?" Percival asked.

Arthur heaved great sigh of distress and sat down heavily on the cold stone. "It's Guinevere." He looked forlorn. "If we discuss this, do you promise you keep it in the strictest confidence?"

"Of course." Percival certainly had secrets of his own and would never test the loyalty of his sovereign and friend.

Arthur began his story. "As you well know, Guinevere and I have been married over three years now. And everyone can plainly see we have no children. For the first several months of our marriage, she didn't seem to mind much; we both knew it could take some time for her to conceive. As we neared our first anniversary, every month that passed that she discovered she wasn't pregnant, she became increasingly upset. During the second year, it was even worse. For a few days each month, she'd go to her private chamber, sit up all night, and cry."

Arthur paused for a moment, thoughtful. "Now, every month, it's terrible. She refuses to eat and won't see people for days. I know she doesn't sleep and she sobs and berates herself. Then, she demands I set her aside and find a 'proper' wife who can give me heirs." With a huff, the king said, "As if I ever would."

Percival had noticed that recently, Guinevere seemed withdrawn and sullen, and appeared much thinner. She was already a petite woman, and Percival had secretly wondered to himself if the queen was ill.

"I even went to consult the midwife myself, without anyone knowing," the king admitted. "Most people think it's all the woman's fault when she can't conceive, but Mary told me it can also be the man. Who's to say it isn't my fault?" asked Arthur.

"That's the big secret," the king confessed. "And I have no idea how to make my wife, whom I love more than anything, understand that I love her and would never set her aside."

"I think the best you can do is remind her of that as often as you can."

"Good point," Arthur conceded. "Now, what about you? I hope you'll excuse my blunt observation, but you look like absolute shite."

"It's a pretty long and humiliating story, to tell the truth," said Percival.

Arthur commented, "I just shared something with you that was embarrassing and private. You can trust me, Percival. You may be my knight, but you're also a loyal friend."

"I fear you'll think less of me," the knight admitted.

The king shook his head. "It would take a lot for me to think less of you."

Percival took a deep breath, then told Arthur all of the details about his seaside trip with Christiane and the subsequent assault. He stared down at his hands the whole time, pain and shame clear on his face. The knight even admitted he'd offered himself to the Pict to save his wife, and was terrified of what the king might think of him. Percival was surprised when Arthur told him he'd have done the same thing to save his beloved Guinevere.

"Feeling that helpless and weak," Percival continued, "watching my wife be assaulted by that man, I just don't think I can get over it." His ears reddened slightly and he continued with, "And now, I can't even...perform as a husband should."

Arthur understood his friend's meaning and said, "Percival, I'm going to tell you something. Something I've never told another living soul. And on pain of death, you are never to repeat it. Is that understood?" Percival nodded in solemn agreement, and Arthur continued.

"While Guinevere was under my order of banishment for kissing my...my most trusted and honorable knight, she spent time as Helios's captive. And during that time, Lord help me, Helios touched her. In the same way that filthy Pict touched your wife. The only reason he wasn't able to finish the job was because Guinevere escaped. I live with the guilt that if she were home safe in Camelot, not wrongly banished by my command, she never would have suffered at her captor's hand."

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose, distressed. "I should have known she was bewitched and not acting of her own accord when she kissed…" he faltered slightly, "…him."

Percival knew the king was referring to the time when he had caught Guinevere kissing Sir Lancelot, the king's most trusted knight. Upon the discovery, Arthur imprisoned Lancelot and banished Guinevere from the kingdom. However, Lancelot was found dead by suicide in his cell the next day. It had taken months to determine that both Guinevere and Lancelot had been bewitched when they kissed and were not acting of their own free will.

Percival's eyes widened after hearing the king's heartfelt confession. "My lord, if I may be so bold, how did you learn to forgive yourself?"

"I spent too much time punishing myself for what I'd done and not enough time caring for my wife, and I saw the damage I caused. Neither of us was happy," Arthur admitted.

"So, once per year, I ride off into the Darkling Woods, privately. I scream, yell, curse myself, chop things with my sword, throw axes. When I'm exhausted, I come home. I allow myself to wallow in my misery for that one day, and then I set it aside." The king noted, "It seems partially effective."

Percival squeezed Arthur's shoulder and stood. "Thank you, sire. I must take my leave at once."

"Where are you going?"

"To the Darkling Woods. To end this until next year."

Percival went to the armory first to grab a sword (since he'd been unarmed in the gardens), an axe, and few throwing knives. He left for the forest on foot.

A good half-hour later, the guilt-ridden knight felt he was sufficiently cloaked in dense foliage and darkness. He hacked at plants and bushes with his axe, then his sword. He threw knives at massive, old trees over and over again, pretending the targets were the Picts' faces. Percival screamed out loud, proclaiming the men to be "evil bastards" and "sons of bitches," railing on about how he wished he could raise them from the dead and beat them to bits before he killed them again.

He wasn't certain how much time elapsed, an hour, perhaps two. But eventually, Percival sat on the forest floor, bathed in sweat and exhausted. The cold night air soothed the heat he felt in his body and calmed his mind. Arthur was right; he felt better. He wasn't sure this feeling would last an entire year, but it was a start.

XXXX

Percival's night in the woods seemed to help some. The following morning, with a little extra coaxing and patience on Christiane's behalf, he was able to perform "as a husband should."

Afterward, Christiane told Percival that she'd need to spend some time during the next week helping Carina prepare for her wedding.

"Carina's asked me to be her matron of honor! I'm so excited," Christiane said. "And Merlin is going to stand up for Ulrich. A good choice, since he helped bring them back together."

"Both excellent selections," Percival told his wife.

Christiane glanced at her husband inquisitively. "You seem in better spirits this morning."

"I am, a little. I had a long talk with Arthur last night and it helped." He purposely left out the details about his visit to the woods.

"I'm glad. The king is a good and wise man." She put her arms around her husband. "As are you. And I love you." She rose from the bed and began to dress.

"I have to spend some time with Gaius this morning, then tend to Carina's nerves," she joked. "I'll see you later."

XXXX

Wedding preparations caused the weeks to fly by in a relative busy haze of dressmaking, decorating, and planning. Before they knew it, the eve of Carina and Ulrich's wedding was upon them. The two were to be married in a modest chapel in Camelot. The king had offered his Great Hall for the ceremony and celebration, but the couple declined. They wanted small, intimate nuptials.

Carina and Christiane sat in Carina's cottage, braiding hair wreaths of wildflower and ivy before getting ready for an evening of dinner and dancing with some of the ladies of court and friends. Carina knew many of the knights were dragging her future husband out that evening for a night of drunken debauchery. She wasn't at all worried about his loyalty, she just hoped he'd be upright and presentable for their vows in the morning.

As they braided, Carina requested, "Once more, tell me how to prepare for my wedding night."

"We've gone over this a dozen times! You know what to expect. You just want to hear all about it again." Carina stuck out her lower lip, pretending to be offended. "All right, all right. Well, you have two options. You can go slowly and get used to it, or you can just let it happen all at once. Either way, it's definitely going to hurt a bit. I recall that the first minute or so was quite painful. Lots of burning and stinging, truth be told."

"But after you got used to it, you enjoyed it, right? I mean, you said you had an – "

"Yes, yes, I did!" Christiane cut in with mick frustration. "How many times do you want me to say it?"

Carina looked genuinely nervous for a moment. "Can I tell you the truth? I'm really scared. I know I've done a great deal with Ulrich, but this final act, where he's actually inside of me...I'm afraid it'll hurt so much I won't be able to do it."

Christiane was surprised by Carina's candid admission. She dropped her work and took her friend's hand. "I was worried about the same thing. Terrified. Percival's not a small man."

"Believe me, neither is Ulrich."

"I'm sure," Christiane responded. "He loves you. Just tell him how you feel. I know he'll be gentle with you. And I promise, if you breathe deeply and count to twenty, the pain will be gone by then. Trust me, will you?"

Christiane teased the bride-to-be, with, "Then, I'm certain you'll want to share all of the sordid details of your encounter as soon as possible afterward."

Meanwhile, Ulrich relaxed in his quarters, alone. He'd made sure the chamber was clean and organized for when Carina moved in her belongings after the wedding.

He dozed off for a short time, only to be roused by Percival, Gwaine, Leon, several other knights, and Merlin bursting into his chambers.

"Up, up, up, time to get pissed and grope at some women for the last time!" Gwaine declared.

Ulrich groaned. "Gwaine, we've discussed this again and again. I'll drink a bit, even gamble, but I'm not touching other women."

Gwaine dismissed his comment. "Ridiculous! Come on man, let's get some food in our bellies before we drink."

Ulrich looked to Percival for help, but the knight simply shrugged his shoulders. Percival knew better than to talk Gwaine down when he was in such a rowdy mood.

In the castle dining hall, the men consumed a hearty meal: succulent pork sausages, flaky capon pie, finely-smoked boar, and a robust pottage of turnips. Everyone in attendance ate like ravenous wolves and then set off for the tavern to celebrate Ulrich's final evening as an unmarried man.

Ulrich had chosen not to wear his prosthesis. While it certainly helped him continue with archery reasonably well, it wasn't always the most comfortable adornment, and on this night, he figured comfort and ease-of-movement was crucial. Just in case Gwaine got out-of-hand.

The Rising Sun seemed particularly loud and boisterous that evening. The party of men sat down for a first round of ale, and it wasn't until the second round (third for Gwaine) that Ulrich finally noticed most of the women wore very revealing, low-cut bodices. It took him a moment before he realized he'd been set up.

"Gwaine, I know you had something to do with this!" Ulrich said over the volume of the lively crowd, gesturing toward the scantily-clad women.

"What? I invited a few friends is all," Gwaine insisted as he gulped a strong-smelling drink from a small cup, feigning innocence. "If you're not going to touch, at least have a look before that becomes a mortal sin, too. Right, Kiena?" he asked of a very attractive redhead as she passed by, patting her bottom in the process.

The full-lipped beauty with a firm, rounded backside turned and said, "If it isn't the mighty Gwaine!" She sat in his lap and turned to press her bosom against his chest. "My friend Helena's here with me. Would you and the groom care for some private entertainment from the two of us later?" she offered.

Simultaneously, Gwaine answered in the affirmative while Ulrich stated, "No!" emphatically.

The alluring redhead left Gwaine's arms and unceremoniously plopped herself down in Ulrich's lap. She stroked his cheek lightly with her thumb and said, "So young, handsome, and unspoiled. My friend and I could teach you many ways to please your new wife," she declared suggestively. "Are you sure?"

Ulrich was rattled and uncertain how to extract himself from this situation. "Quite sure, but thank you." Still, she sat. "You're lovely, but I love my fiancée and wouldn't want to hurt her feelings." The woman still didn't rise. "She's very dear to me."

"You are so sweet!" Kiena then stood, purposely grazing the tops her breasts against Ulrich's face as she rose. "Pity!"

She turned toward Gwaine and offered, "Party of three tonight, then – you, Helena and I. Unless," she said, gesturing toward Percival, "this sexy big fellow would care to join us."

"Uh, no," Percival answered, pointing to his wedding band.

"Why not have your wife join us too?" the redhead suggested. Percival shook his head vigorously.

Kiena then looked Leon up-and-down, clearly admiring him, and inquired, "What about you, my handsome Sir Leon? Would you enjoy a little fun with us tonight?"

Everyone seated at the table awaited Leon's answer. They'd never seen him with a woman before, and Leon never discussed his private life with his men. Even Merlin sat at attention, wondering how the knight commander would answer the question.

Leon appeared as if he was considering the invitation carefully. He gave Kiena a slight smile, and said, "While that's a very tempting offer, I'm afraid I'll have to pass this evening."

With a good-natured sigh of exasperation, Kiena said, "Fine, then. See you later Gwaine." The redhead blew Gwaine a kiss and sashayed off.

"You are all mad to turn her down," Gwaine informed the men. "She and her friend! This is going to be a night to remember!" He then turned to Leon and asked, "Why would _you_ turn her down? Are you hiding a woman in your wardrobe that we don't know about?"

Leon looked thoroughly unhappy about being put on the spot. The knight commander told his rambunctious comrade, "I have my reasons. Just leave it be."

Obviously drunk, Gwaine pressed on. "Do you prefer men, Leon? It's all right with me if you do. I just want to see you happy, man."

The normally proper and even-tempered Leon banged his flagon of ale down onto the table, liquid splashing over the side, and growled, "Damn it, no Gwaine, I don't prefer men!" He then stormed from the tavern angrily. Leon had been feeling a bit down and lonely recently, and the last thing he needed was rumors circulating that he preferred the company of men in his bed.

"Hell, I was just kidding around," said Gwaine.

Ulrich felt bad for Leon, but he decided to ignore Gwaine's disorderly behavior and nursed his ale. The young knight wasn't about to get drunk and feel sick at his own wedding tomorrow. Ulrich wanted to make sure he was well enough to remember every detail of the day. He was, however, forced to endure a couple of hours of increasingly indecent proposals from immodestly-dressed women, and had no fewer than a dozen pairs of breasts shoved against various parts of his body.

The groom-to-be was extremely relieved when Percival suggested they play dice. Once the gambling commenced, the overt female attention died down somewhat, but not entirely. Ulrich felt his bottom squeezed a few times, and each time, when he went to turn around, the offender was nowhere to be found.

The dice-rolling and betting went on for a couple of hours. The knights made Merlin promise he wouldn't use his magic to win every roll, and he agreed, though it seemed as if he won more coin than anyone else. But that might have been because the sorcerer had drunk only one flagon of ale, whereas most of the other men had finished at least three or more.

When the men tired of the game, they turned over all of the winnings to Ulrich as a wedding gift, and the young man was sincerely touched.

While most of the knights were well in their cups by this hour, Ulrich remained completely sober, much to Gwaine's dismay. Gwaine loudly declared, "Ladies, if he's not going to get drunk, and he's not going to touch, then at least give him a sight to remember!"

Half a dozen young women sauntered over to Ulrich, making a tight circle around his chair so he couldn't escape. Every last woman pulled down her bodice, exposing her bare breasts to him. Most of the men cheered their approval. As they did, Will stormed out of the kitchen, livid.

"Gwaine!" he shouted, red-faced and clearly very angry. "This is a reputable establishment and I won't have this. If you're going to keep this up, take it elsewhere!"

Gwaine respected Will, and said, "I'm sorry, man. I got carried away. It won't happen again."

True to his word, instead of instigating more nudity, Gwaine sat down with a group of younger knights and began to give lessons in how to pleasure women.

"Winning battles is great, but pleasing a woman's the best feeling in the world. It'll make you feel like a god, gentlemen," he declared drunkenly, gesturing with his flagon and sloshing ale all over his tunic.

"Oh, here we go," Percival muttered to Ulrich. He then shouted over to Gwaine, "Maybe it's time to call it a night, hmm?"

Hearing this, Kiena and her pretty friend, Helena wandered over to Gwaine's seat. Helena was a tiny brunette with a small waist and delicate features, unlike her more voluptuous friend. The two women leaned against a seated Gwaine and Helena asked, "So, bold knight, do you think you can satisfy us both tonight?"

Gwaine put his arms around both ladies. "I will, or I'll die trying!"

He rose to leave the tavern, and the others followed suit.

Once at the castle, the men all bid each other goodnight. Gwaine walked into his room with the two beauties, one in each arm. Before he shut his door, he called out over his shoulder, "Last chance, Ulrich!" Once again, Ulrich politely declined, but wished them a good evening. As Ulrich and Percival walked down the corridor, the two men heard giggles and squeals from Gwaine's bedchamber, and possibly some growling and barking noises.

Percival held up his hand and said, "I don't even want to know." Ulrich smiled in agreement, and Percival then asked his young friend, "Do you feel like having some company?"

"I wouldn't mind some," Ulrich answered slightly relieved. "My mind's racing thinking about tomorrow."

As they approached Ulrich's quarters, Percival admitted, "I missed out on the whole wedding jitters part, since it was all determined and done within an hour. I didn't have much time to worry about bedchamber activates, either, and I think that was a blessing."

The men entered the room and Percival took a seat in front of the fireplace; the logs glowed dimly at this hour. Ulrich added a few pieces of wood, and said, "I'm not worried about marrying Carina. I love her fiercely. I'm worried I won't be good in bed, or hurt her, and she'll never want me to touch her again. Or that having one arm will be a huge hindrance." The nervous groom left the fireplace, slumped into his seat and said, "Forgive me, I'm sure you don't want to hear about this."

"No, it's fine," Percival assured his friend. "I figured you might want to talk about this, and not with Gwaine, who'd make unreasonable and elaborate suggestions," he said with a half-grin.

Ulrich chuckled. "It almost frightens me to think of what he might suggest."

The young man returned to his wedding-night worries. "My biggest concern is her pain. Is there any way to avoid it or lessen it?"

"Not that I know of," the older, married knight replied frankly. "And they say we knights are the strong ones? Can you imagine having to deal with this pain, deliver children, and endure monthly cycles? No thank you! I'd rather go to battle."

Ulrich laughed in agreement and Percival suggested, "I think the best thing to do is start out slowly and wait for her to say something. If she says stop, slow down, just listen to that. And reassure her that you love her and you'll take as long as she needs."

"Reasonable. All reasonable advice. I think I can do that," Ulrich said.

"One more thing, and then I promise, we can change the subject," stated the nervous groom-to-be. "What if...let's just say the whole thing doesn't last very long."

Percival remembered his wedding night with Christiane, and of course, that had been one of his primary concerns. "I was worried about the same thing," he admitted. "It could happen, and if it does, as a married man, you'll have the next forty years to get it right," the older knight said with a playful smirk.

Ulrich let out a sigh of relief. "Thanks, man. I feel much better." Searching for something distract him from his worries, the young knight offered, "How about some chess?"

After an hour or so of chess playing, Percival took his leave and returned to his chambers to find Christiane reclining in bed, reading.

"I didn't expect you up at such a late hour," Percival said as he undressed.

Looking up from her book, Christiane studied her husband skeptically. "Are you, by any chance, drunk? The ladies and I heard stories about Gwaine returning to his chambers with two women. I'm assuming you weren't involved."

Percival held up his hands in protest. "Absolutely not. I spent some time with Ulrich trying to help calm his nerves. Then we played some chess; that's all."

"I know, silly. I'm just taunting you," his wife teased.

Christiane drew back the blankets and said, "Come to bed now. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."


	17. Chapter 17 A Wedding and Beyond

**A/N - Chapter sixteen was a mixed-bag! Percival and Christiane seem to be healing, and Percival's developing a closer relationship with Arthur. And did Gwaine finally achieve his "lifelong dream" of having two women in his bed at once? And what's going on with Leon? He definitely wasn't happy during the men's night out. **

**During chapter seventeen, we'll be guests at Ulrich and Carina's wedding and post-wedding feast. Will their first time together go well? Will Ulrich be able to cope with his nerves? Or maybe Carina's the one who gets nervous!**

**And a HUGE welcome to greydaysandbooks and AthenaOwl10. Thank you for "following" and "favoriting" my story.**

**Thanks for sticking with me, everyone. **

Chapter 17 – A Wedding and Beyond

Christiane arrived at Carina's cottage quite early in the morning on the big day, thinking her friend would be a frantic jumble of nerves. She'd even brought some soothing chamomile tea, just in case. What she found when she arrived was a well-rested Carina, who rose from her bed appearing as if she had not a care in the world.

"This is unexpected!" Christiane said. "I assumed you'd be running around agitated right now."

"No need," Carina replied. "I've spent the last three weeks in a state of anxiety over the wedding, and I've decided to be nothing but cheerful and happy today. Even if it is cold and overcast," she observed, motioning to the grey, cloudy sky outside of her window.

"That's very sanguine of you. I'm duly impressed," Christiane commented as she busied herself in the kitchen area.

Christiane then confirmed, "The chapel and the hall are all decorated. Really, everything is done, with the exception of feeding you breakfast and getting you dressed and ready."

Carina and Ulrich had planned on a small post-wedding meal at the Rising Sun, but Arthur insisted that if the couple were to have their ceremony at the chapel, they must have their wedding feast in his council room and allow his kitchen staff to prepare and serve the food. The king emphasized he was forever indebted to Ulrich, and this small favor was the least he could do. Who were they to question the king's generosity?

After finishing a simple breakfast of bread, cheese, and sliced apples, Christiane suggested they take a short walk in the cool morning air before beginning the long and tedious process of taming Carina's unruly curls with the hot tongs.

The hour was early and it was quiet and chilly outdoors, but many residents of Camelot were awake and tending to their daily farming duties. It seemed as if the whole city knew of the wedding, and Carina was deeply touched by the many well-wishes and blessings she received as they walked. It made her feel rather emotional that all of these people, some of whom she scarcely knew, cared about her and Ulrich's happiness. Christiane noticed her friend's emotional state and put her arm around her as they walked.

"You deserve this," said Christiane. "More than anyone I know." The matron-of-honor tried to lighten her friend's mood and offered, "Who'd have thought we'd be two old, married ladies! Maybe we'll have our babies close in age, and they can be the best of friends, like us."

Carina narrowed her eyes slightly at her friend. "What are you saying? Are you hiding something from me?" She focused on Christiane's abdomen.

"I don't know anything for certain yet. Soon, though. You'll be the first to know. Okay, not the first, but you'll be among the first!"

Carina exclaimed, "I'd better be! And I want to be there when the babe is born, too."

"Of course. You'll be right at my side. And I'll be there for you, too, when it's your time."

As the friends sauntered back toward the cottage, Christiane said, "Now, let's get working on your wild curls with the tongs. That's going to take a while."

While Christiane spent time helping Carina prepare for the wedding ceremony, Ulrich strapped on his prosthesis and elected to engage in a little archery down on the shooting range to keep his mind occupied. He was already shaved and washed, and didn't feel like simply pacing around the castle for the next few hours.

Though he often lamented that he wasn't the near-flawless marksman he once was, he was grateful he could still shoot with some degree of accuracy. After having taken several shots, Gwaine stumbled toward him, looking particularly unwell. Ulrich couldn't help but laugh at the sight of him: mostly disheveled, long hair rumpled, brown eyes bloodshot, with a distinctly grey pallor.

"Looks like you had quite the evening," Ulrich comment with mirth as he lowered his bow.

Gwaine swayed slightly before him on the grassy range. "Never again, I tell you. Never. Again."

"What happened?" Ulrich pestered his friend. "I thought this was your life-long dream, having two women in your bed at once."

"Apparently, it's one of those things that sounds good in theory, but in practice, doesn't work quite as well. They were so demanding," the hung-over man groaned. "I couldn't keep up with them! Eventually, I just became exhausted, and they left." Gwaine frowned. "I'll admit, it started out fun. But I'm getting too old for this. Time to settle down, I think."

As he nocked his bow and took another shot, Ulrich commented, "I'll believe that when I see it."

Gwaine yawned. "Did you have any breakfast yet?"

"No, I don't want any. Nerves have killed my appetite."

"That's a terrible idea, man. You need to fortify yourself for the wedding. Come on, we'll scrounge up a late breakfast. I don't want you fainting on the chapel steps like a little girl." Gwaine appeared to consider this notion carefully, before saying, "Then again, we could taunt you about that forever, and that does hold some appeal."

Ulrich protested. "But I need time to get into my chainmail and armor!"

"It's not going to take you three hours to get dressed, for God's sake! Don't be such a girl. Percival and I will help you. Let's go," Gwaine ordered. "Time for some food." Shaking off his hangover fog, the knight announced, "Anyway, right now, a stack of spiced griddle cakes and thick slices of ham sound better than a naked woman."

XXXX

A few hours later, Percival and Gwaine made sure Ulrich's chainmail, armor, ceremonial sword, and cape looked presentable, while Christiane put the finishing touches on Carina's hair. The bride wore her blonde locks loose and flowing, with a wreath of ivy and wildflowers on top of her curls. Her dress was a royal blue and fit her perfectly.

"I wish father could be here to see us get married. But he probably hasn't even received my letter informing him yet," Carina said, knowing it would likely be several months before Reece received word of her nuptials. Letters and messages carried across the Narrow Sea and all of the way to the Western Roman Empire tended to take a very long time before they ended up in the hands of their intended recipients, if they ever made it at all.

"He'll be happy once he hears you married such a wonderful man," Christiane said as she stepped back and admired her friend. "You look absolutely stunning. I doubt Ulrich's eyes will be dry. Shall we go?" Carina gave a slight nod, until Christiane declared, "Oh, wait! We almost forgot your flowers. I hid them under the bed."

Christiane presented her friend with a large bouquet of red- and cream-colored roses tied with ribbons of the same shades.

Gasping at the bouquet's beauty, Carina said, "It's magnificent. Thank you so much. For everything."

"No tears!" Christiane demanded teasingly, worried her friend was about to become emotional again. "You'll smudge your rouge."

With that, the bride and matron-of-honor departed for the chapel. The late morning sun began to peek from behind the clouds, dispelling some of the chill and casting a comforting glow around the building. Percival met the women outside.

"Has my groom run off?" Carina asked in jest.

"Of course not. He's been here for over an hour, shifting about nervously," said Percival. "I wanted to come out to tell you all is ready."

"As am I," Carina replied.

Percival opened the chapel door to allow Carina and his wife entry, then swiftly walked back to his seat near King Arthur and Queen Guinevere, who were also in attendance. At that moment, a vocalist began to sing a hauntingly beautiful love song in Latin. Few guests understood the lyrics, but as the woman's voice filled the chapel, it was impossible to not feel the emotion in her words.

As the woman sang, Christiane proceeded down the aisle in her simple but pretty light-blue dress. Carina followed, resplendent in her royal blue gown with a cream-colored sash around her waist and long, flowing sleeves. Small cream-colored beads adorned the bodice and hem of the dress, which gently swept the floor as she walked. The young bride appeared to almost float down the aisle, positively radiant with joy.

In moments, Carina stood next to her groom at the altar, her stunning beauty and obvious happiness bringing a tear to Ulrich's eye, but he didn't care. Somehow, he didn't think Gwaine would harass him for being terribly in love with his bride.

Ulrich leaned in slightly toward Carina and whispered, "You look beautiful."

Merlin, the best man, stood off to the side and nodded in agreement with a wide smile on his face.

Geoffrey of Monmouth smiled at the couple also, and proclaimed, "Let us begin."

The ceremony was much like the one Geoffrey had performed for Christiane and Percival, except with many more people in attendance. While most of the ceremony brimmed with emotion and love, there were some lighthearted moments.

During the exchange of the rings, Ulrich raised his prosthesis and said, "I don't think it'll fit on this," and Carina slipped the ring onto his right hand.

And when it came time to take the chalice, Carina's hands shook slightly as she raised the cup to Ulrich's lips, and she spilled few drops of wine down the front of his chainmail. She looked flustered, but he said to the guests, "Not to worry, chainmail cleans easily," and everyone chuckled.

As the couple drank from the chalice, Geoffrey said, "As Ulrich and Carina share their first wine as a married couple, let us all say, 'Bless our friends and bless Camelot!'"

The guests repeated after him cheerfully.

Geoffrey finally announced, "Ulrich, you may now kiss your bride," which the young groom did heartily, to shouts and cheers.

Geoffrey concluded with, "Bless Camelot and all present here. Now, greet our happy couple and let the celebrations commence!"

Ulrich kissed his new wife one more time, just for good measure, then the couple and their guests proceeded to the castle for the wedding feast. The wedding entourage gasped as they walked into the council room. The castle staff had completely transformed the space, and it was stunning. The normally cold and sterile feel of the room was completely gone. Thick cream- and scarlet-colored tablecloths adorned each table. Hundreds of candles cast a romantic glow about the chamber. Dozens of garlands of ivy and rose adorned the walls, and twenty or thirty huge and lavish baskets of roses hung down from the rafters.

A massive table laden with mouth-watering fingers foods was displayed, including nuts, sweet and savory breads and spreads, various fresh fruits and berries, assorted cheeses, steamed oysters, bite-sized meat pies, and a large variety of custards and tarts. Even more surprising was the presence of dates and pistachios, as they were very rare and expensive treats. While the ravenous guests descended on the buffet table, Ulrich sought out Arthur.

"Sire, this is too much!" Ulrich told the king, completely shocked by the extravagant decorations and food.

"What?" King Arthur asked. "I'm hungry," he said with a wry grin, clapped the young husband's shoulder, and took a seat.

As the bride, groom, and guests enjoyed their food, musicians played softly in the background. Though most guests were stuffed from the sumptuous buffet selection, still more food arrived for the main meal, the tantalizing scents filling the air. From onion-ale soup to roast pheasant, to goose, venison, and herbed fish, it seemed as if the parade of food might never stop.

The rest of the feast passed in a relative blur. Many guests made toasts to the newlyweds, and the two stole kisses whenever they could. Fortunately, Gwaine made a very tame and kind toast, for which both Ulrich and Carina were grateful.

After sharing one last kiss across the top of a massive cake[2], the bride and groom's friends whisked them off to prepare them for the bedding ceremony. Christiane, Lindara, and their young friend, Alis, swept Carina away to her chambers to help the young bride prepare, while Percival, Gwaine, and Merlin took Ulrich to Gwaine's quarters.

In Carina and Ulrich's room, the ladies brushed out the bride's hair and helped her into a lovely white (albeit quite gauzy) nightdress, and a plush white wrap. As Lindara was the oldest in attendance, she reiterated what to expect on this night while Carina listened raptly.

Lindara mentioned, "Some women don't bleed their first time. I didn't, though I was a maiden," the widow said, recalling her own wedding night two decades earlier. "But as you know, people expect to see it. My husband, rest his good soul, was kind enough to jab his finger with a knife and smeared some of his blood onto the sheet."

"Very good idea," Carina said absently, now too anxious to focus on Lindara's words.

Flushed with worriment, Carina added, "I have no idea why I'm so nervous. If he feels half as jittery as I, we'll never get anywhere. _And_ I have to deal with people listening outside the door! It's barbaric, if you ask me!"

"I agree," said Christiane, thinking back to her own wedding night and how nerve-wracking it was to know people were present just outside of the chamber. "But remember, it's just Percival and a guard and they'll leave swiftly and quietly afterward."

Alis chimed in with, "It all sounds terribly scary and exciting. When it's my turn, I'll have a thousand questions!" A petite, pretty, brown-haired seventeen-year-old, Alis hoped to find love herself.

The women helped anoint Carina's skin and hair with rosewater. The newlywed paused to look in the mirror. "What can possibly be taking them so long?" the bride whined, referring to her husband's preparations in Gwaine's chamber. "What does he need to do other than remove his shirt? I don't think I can do this," she lamented. "What if I panic?"

Christiane stifled a giggle and asked, "And do what, exactly? Run amok?" The two friends laughed hysterically at the idea.

"I suppose not," Carina admitted, recognizing it was highly unlikely that she'd actually run amok.

Carina and Christiane's friend, Drea (short for Alexandrea), a young and highly-attractive widow, popped her head into the chamber for a moment.

"I have to get back to my son before he ransacks the council chamber, but I wanted to wish you all the best tonight!" Drea said, and blew Carina a kiss from the doorway before departing.

Seconds later, there was a light rapping on the door, and Carina almost jumped out of her seat in front of the mirror. "Enter," she announced, endeavoring to keep her voice as steady as possible.

Ulrich entered, sans shirt, with Gwaine, Percival, and Merlin. Merlin was fidgety and tense, so Gwaine dismissed him before he made everyone else edgy. Merlin wished the couple well, and nearly flew from the room; he was known to become quite embarrassed with such matters.

"We've given him all the advice we can," said Gwaine with a sly grin. "The rest is up to him. I'll bless the bed for you."

Gwaine stepped over to the bed and gave the following blessing: "May your marriage bed bring you joy, comfort, and happiness. May it solidify your love and caring for one another, and bring you _many_ happy, healthy, beautiful children. Bless this bed and the couple readying to enter it."

All in attendance stared at Gwaine, slightly shocked by his heartfelt words. Carina spoke first.

"Gwaine, I'm quite impressed. Thank you for that kind blessing."

Seemingly unable to remain serious for more than a minute, Gwaine joked, "Are you sure you don't want us to stay and give young Ulrich here pointers? We don't mind!"

Percival took charge and began to usher people from the chamber. "All right everyone, out!" he declared forcefully.

The large knight turned to Ulrich for a moment, and took him aside. He whispered, "Just bring me the sheets when you're done. Gwaine was kind enough to handle them for me on my wedding night and made sure they were hung well on the other side of the castle. I'll do the same for you."

Everyone took their leave, save the newly-married couple. Outside of the bedchamber door, Percival stood with a castle guard. When Gwaine stood next to him, Percival asked, "Aren't you going back to your quarters?"

With a devious wink, Gwaine said, "Nah, I want to stick around for the excitement."

Percival exhaled loudly, "Gwaine..."

"I promise I'm not here to make fun of Ulrich. The poor man lost his arm, nearly went mad, and ran away. I only want to be here to clap him on the back and tell him 'Job well done' when it's over. You have my word."

"Fine, then. I know your word's good."

Back in the bedchamber, Ulrich and Carina stood a few feet apart, simply gazing at one another. Ulrich noticed the slight blush on his new bride's cheeks and a few beads of perspiration on her upper lip.

He moved toward her. "You're either very nervous, or very hot," Ulrich joked. "Here, let's take off your wrap." He slipped the clothing from her shoulders and dropped it on the nearby chair. "Is that better?"

"A bit."

Ulrich asked tenderly, "What's worrying you, love?"

"I don't really know," answered Carina shakily. "I'm just so nervous!"

Ulrich blew out a few candles to make the atmosphere more conducive to romance, and gathered Carina close to his chest. "We can take as much time as we want. I know how you love to be in charge, but this time, let me. You can take charge for the next round," he said with a hint of humor in his voice.

"Before we do anything, may I just look at you?" the young groom asked, and Carina nodded in consent. Ulrich took a small step back and admired his bride as he held her shoulders lightly. "Dear God, you're a beauty. So incredibly desirable."

Tentatively, Carina took a slight step forward, tipped her face upward, and gently kissed Ulrich's lower lip, nipping at it lightly. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he rested his hand on her hip as they kissed, slowly and carefully, savoring every delicious stroke of the tongue.

Carina could feel that Ulrich was aroused immediately. He carefully unlaced the top of her nightdress, giving her plenty of time to decline if she wished, but she didn't. The new husband reached his hand under the thin material of his wife's gown and cupped her full breast as they continued to kiss. Carina rubbed up against his arousal, and Ulrich eased the clothing off her shoulders, allowing the light garment to fall onto the floor.

In the dim candlelight, Carina stood before her husband, naked and heart-stoppingly beautiful, with her curly blond hair mostly obscuring her breasts. She began to unlace his trousers, but the faint shaking of her hands made it difficult, so Ulrich helped her.

Ulrich took Carina's hand and moved toward the bed, drawing back to covers and motioning for her to get in. She did so, and Ulrich reached for the white sheet folded neatly on the bedside table. Carina raised her hips and allowed him to position it under her body.

Ulrich then lowered himself down onto his wife, bearing his weight on his knees and his good arm, and laved her breasts with his tongue. She responded to his touch immediately and her nipples stiffened. Carina arched her back toward him, wanting more. He reached between her legs and caressed her center gently, feeling she was ready. Ulrich let his erection rest against her wetness, and he whispered, "You tell me when the time is right."

"Now. Now is right," Carina muttered. "Just do it all at once, before I lose my nerve."

Ulrich stroked her cheek and said, "I'm sorry for any pain this causes you. I love you."

He positioned her legs over his hips, and as requested, Ulrich pressed his way in all at once, and was immediately fully-sheathed by her tight wetness. It was almost more than he could bear, and in that instant, he worried this event might end forthwith, so the young husband bit his lip, hard, hoping the discomfort would help distract him. Ulrich had almost forgotten about Carina's needs, so overwhelmed by the feeling of being inside of her, but he was drawn back to his senses by her whimper of pain, and the few beads of sweat now apparent on the bridge of her nose.

For those first few seconds of sexual activity, Carina thought it felt somewhat like being impaled on a sword; the discomfort was incredibly sharp and immediate. But she started to count, as Christiane suggested, breathed deeply, and realized the pain had begun to recede. She noticed that Ulrich had stopped moving entirely, so she requested, "Go on."

He moved gently and easily at first, sensing Carina was still adjusting to his abrupt intrusion. As Ulrich moved within her, he kissed her deeply, breaking off every so often to tell her how amazing she felt, or simply groan, "Oh, God."

Ulrich moved up onto his knees, thinking Carina could do with a break from bearing so much of his weight. It also gave him the chance to look down and admire her gorgeous body, and he could see that she no longer seemed uncomfortable, and was, in fact, breathing heavily and rapidly with desire.

The act of Ulrich becoming more upright helped immensely. Carina could feel every inch of him now sliding in and out if her, caressing her, and she felt the flame of pleasure beginning to burn in her lower belly. She was scarcely in control of herself when she moaned, "Please, Ulrich, faster!"

He complied immediately, moving within her as fast as he could, moaning with each thrust and biting his lip, praying that he could last just a little longer with this beauty's tightness caressing his cock over and over.

Just as Ulrich didn't think he could last another second, his wife positioned her legs up over his shoulders and locked her ankles behind his neck. With her body shaking slightly, her release tore through her like wildfire, and she let out a scream of passion like he'd never heard before. He instantly found his release as well, finishing with a loud groan.

After takings a few cleansing breaths, Ulrich disengaged from his wife, and went to fetch two clean cloths. As he brought one back to Carina, she informed her husband, "There's no blood," as she pointed to the sheet she'd removed from beneath her.

"That was always a possibility," he replied, swiping the sheet from her hands. Before she could protest, Ulrich strode over to his belt, removed his dagger, and nicked his upper thigh, allowing a thin line of blood to appear. Once the cut had welled up sufficiently, he took the sheet and touched it to his leg, smearing it slightly. He studied the fabric and said, "That'll do."

With a frown, Carina stated, "I wish you hadn't."

"If you think for a moment I'm going to let _you_ mark up that delicious body on purpose, you're mistaken," said Ulrich, as he yanked on his trousers.

He walked over to the bed once again and pulled the covers up to his wife's chin, tucking her into the bed with a soft kiss on the forehead. "I'll just be a moment. Let me handle the sheets and I'll be right back."

Ulrich stepped outside into the corridor and was met with Gwaine's boisterous cheers. Ulrich turned to Percival.

"Really?" said Ulrich, sounding irritated. "He just _had_ to be here?"

Gwaine interrupted. "Good man, good man!" he exclaimed as he thumped Ulrich heartily on the back. "After hearing you make a woman scream like that, I will never taunt you again. I might even ask you for pointers!" With good humor, he told the young groom, "And believe me, there'll be no question about the marriage being consummated. I think the whole wing heard. Good job, man! Congratulations." Gwaine continued to thump Ulrich's back until the newlywed smiled broadly.

Percival said, "Okay, Gwaine, that's enough. We're leaving now." He turned to Ulrich, took the sheets from the young groom and said, "Have a good rest of your night. We'll see you tomorrow." As Percival clasped Ulrich's arm in congratulations, he added, "Probably very late in the day." He then departed with Gwaine and the guard.

Ulrich entered the chamber once again and found his wife breathing gently with her eyes closed. He couldn't blame her; after all it had been a busy and exciting day. He moved toward the bed quietly, hoping he could slip under the bedcovers without waking her. To Ulrich's surprise, his wife grabbed his wrist and pulled him against her. Clearly, the woman had been feigning sleep.

Carina whispered, "Now, I'm going to be on top, and I plan to ride you like a wild stallion!"

She made good on her promise.

* * *

><p>[9] Kissing across the top of a cake was customary during medieval wedding feasts and symbolized a lifetime of happiness and prosperity.<p> 


	18. Chapter 18 An Unexpected Request

**A/N - That was a lovely wedding and feast during chapter seventeen, wasn't it? And how can you not laugh at the hungover Gwaine's rantings? And Carina was the one to get nervous on her wedding night! Who would have thought. We also saw a little bit more of Alis, the young midwife-in-training, and we met Drea, the pretty young mother/widow. They will both play much larger roles as the story continues. **

**During chapter eighteen, the story takes a bit of a turn. We're going to be focusing on Arthur and Guinevere for a while. Of course, the other characters will be there, too. Gwaine in particular will play a very large role in the upcoming events. There are also more pregnancies to be discussed, and one very funny scene between husbands and wives (at least I thought it was funny).**

**And a BIG welcome to silverfox1611 who "followed" and "favorited" my story. Thank you!**

**Again, I adore you, my fabulous readers. **

Chapter 18 – An Unexpected Request

Percival, Christiane, Ulrich, and Carina all hoped simpler, less-stressful times lay ahead. They'd all endured such turmoil for the last several months that some degree of boredom and monotony would be regarded as a welcome respite.

And at first, that is exactly what happened. The weeks passed and the couples happily celebrated Percival and Ulrich's birthdays just after Yule time.

Following the season of celebration, Christiane and Carina settled into their roles as wives. Christiane no longer worked at the tavern and spent her time apprenticing with Gaius. Carina continued with her booming candle business. She'd also chosen to rent out her cottage to a newly-married young couple she'd met in the market, Piran and Nia, he a carpenter and she a seamstress. Two months after her wedding, Carina had finally received word from her father that he would not return from his trading mission for yet _another_ eighteen months, so she decided it would be reasonable to rent out her home to the young couple for a year.

The letter from her father read as follows:

_My Dearest Carina,_

_As you know, it's very challenging to find someone to carry a letter across the Narrow Sea in an expedient fashion! _

_Thank you for sending me word of your wedding. Your young man Ulrich wrote to me previously, asking for your hand, fine fellow that he is. I am certain you made a captivating bride and I am confident he is treating you well. _

_I will be home in eighteen months' time. This trading mission has gone extraordinarily well, and after it is done and I have returned home to Camelot, I will have enough resources to retire and live comfortably, and hopefully spend a good deal of time with any new grandchildren I may have (no pressure, of course). I may even write a book about my travels!_

_I have wedding gifts for both you and Ulrich, but I'd rather deliver them in person when I see you next. _

_In the meantime, know that I love you and miss you._

_Love,_

_Father_

Carina shared the letter with Christiane while they warmed themselves in front of the fire in Christiane's chambers. Winter had settled upon the kingdom in earnest, and a particularly cold one, at that. The chill winds howled and the temperature scarcely rose above freezing, even during the daytime.

"Another eighteen months!" Christiane said. "But it's wonderful that he'll be home for good after that." She remembered fondly, "We were such little devils when were children, I'm surprised he has anything to do with me."

"Please," said Carina with an eye roll. "You know he loves you dearly."

Carina eyed her friend closely and changed the subject. "When do we go see the midwife?" she asked.

"Do you think you're pregnant already?" asked Christiane excitedly, clasping her hands together, eyes bright.

"I may be. I haven't had my courses since before the wedding, so I'm fairly sure." Pointing toward the very slight swell of Christiane's lower belly, Carina pointed out, "And please, you know you're with child, too. Your bodices are straining around your bosom, and either you're eating too much bread with jam, or you're carrying baby."

Christiane hastily covered her lower abdomen with her hands. "I've been putting off the midwife visit because of what happened last time. Once I hear someone else confirm a pregnancy, I feel like I have to start worrying again." She then confessed, "I don't think I can stand another miscarriage."

"No, no," Carina insisted, walking to her friend's seat and then kneeling to hug her. "You had such heartache, I just know it won't happen again. Besides, I think you may be even further along than last time. What do you think?"

"It's hard to tell exactly because I never bled again after the last pregnancy, so I think about twelve weeks, but I can't be sure."

"Twelve weeks?" Carina nearly shrieked as she stood. "We must go to Mary at once. I think I'm about eight weeks along, so I need to visit, too."

"All right, we'll go, calm down," Christiane insisted with a grin.

The friends dressed for the cold weather with extra-thick traveling cloaks, and set off for the midwife's home. The clouds were grey and heavy, and the crisp, cold scent in the air hinted that snow might fall. On the way to their destination, they caught up with their friend Alis, who told them she had just started an apprenticeship with the midwife a few days earlier and was very excited about her training. The three arrived at Mary's cottage, shivering.

"Come inside this instant!" Mary commanded. "'Tis freezing out. No wonder I've had no visits but you two today." As she ushered the friends and her new apprentice indoors, she said, "Let me guess. The two of you are here for pregnancy checks, right?"

The two friends removed their cloaks, and Mary studied Christiane. "I scarcely need to do an examination on you to tell you're with child, dear. Let's do it and see how far along you are. And Carina, while you wait, help yourself to some chamomile tea."

Christiane settled on the examination table. Though she'd been through this before, lying on the table without undergarments always felt a little unnerving.

Mary washed her hands in the basin and poured a slight amount of almond oil onto her fingers, then proceeded to conduct the exam, explaining the steps to Alis as she went along. The experienced midwife had a way of distracting patients during their examinations so they felt less awkward. She inquired about Christiane's healing apprenticeship, Percival, Will, and how she was enjoying married life. Once she finished, Mary washed her hands again, and inquired, "When were your courses last, Christiane?"

"I never had them again after I lost the last pregnancy."

"Ah," said Mary. "I'd estimate by that date and the feel of your womb that you're twelve, thirteen weeks along. Which is further than last time. It's safe to share the news, if you wish," she assured her patient as she drew her into a warm hug of congratulations.

Mary asked Christiane, "Would it be all right if Alis gave a quick feel? So she can start to learn the feel of a womb?"

"Certainly," said Christiane. "After all, I'm an apprentice and we all have to start somewhere."

Alis smiled a little awkwardly at her pregnant friend, cleaned her hands, rubbed some almond oil on them, and listened to Mary's instructions. The midwife-in-training inserted her fingers into Christiane very gently and palpated her friend's lower abdomen exactly as Mary had explained. Alis made a mental note of the size, position, and mobility of the womb.

"I hope that wasn't too bad," Alis inquired shyly as she finished her examination.

Christiane assured her, "Not at all. You were quite gentle."

It was Carina's turn next, and the young woman shook like a leaf on the examination table.

"My dear little thing, what's wrong?" Mary asked.

"I'm scared," Carina admitted. "I'm afraid I'm too weak-willed to deliver a baby without falling apart, and I've no idea how to be a mother." Feeling entirely overwhelmed, she began to cry.

Before conducting any type of exam, Mary held the young woman's hand, and explained to her that it's normal to be nervous, pregnancy makes one feel very emotional, and that the midwife and any of Carina's women-friends would be available for help or advice, day or night. That settled Carina's nerves a bit, and at the end of the examination, the midwife proclaimed the young mother was nine weeks along.

Christiane and Carina dropped several gold coins into Mary's jar, thanking her and Alis profusely. Armed with ginger tea, the two friends set out to return home and share the good news with their husbands.

It had begun to snow lightly, and the friends were giddy with excitement, much like little children. They stuck out their tongues to catch flakes as they walked together toward the castle, arm-in-arm.

Despite the cold weather, they knew it was archery training day, so their husbands would be on the training grounds presently. It reminded Christiane of the last time she'd informed her husband of her pregnancy, but she made an effort to put that from her mind, as she wanted to focus on sharing this new joy with Percival and her dearest friends.

Archery day always drew a large number of Camelot's residents. The citizens loved watching the action and making quiet wagers on the knights. The pregnant duo obscured themselves in the crowd. Carina heard someone in front of her say, "Damn, that man's got one arm and he still shoots better than the rest. I put my coin on him!" She smiled at this, happy that people recognized her husband's talents as opposed to his limitations.

Half an hour later, the men left the field, some happy, others disgruntled. Christine and Carina caught their husbands' eyes.

"And what have you ladies been up to on this chilly day?" Ulrich asked the women as he and Percival waded through the crowd toward their wives.

"Oh, not much," said Carina coyly. "Just a quick trip to the midwife is all."

"Both of you?" asked Percival.

Carina could no longer contain herself. "Yes. I'm nine weeks along and Christiane is twelve! She's due in mid-summer, and I'm due in late-summer."

Ulrich stood there, speechless. He finally recovered and asked, "You're well? And all is well with the babe?"

"As far as anyone can tell," his wife answered.

"Heaven have mercy!" Ulrich yelled, pulling his wife into a solid embrace.

There was a great deal of hugging, kissing, hand-shaking, back-slapping, and congratulations going around. After all of the fuss, the men explained they needed to wash up and change and would meet their wives in the hall for lunch.

Carina and Christiane were already well into their leek and parsnip pottage when the men arrived. Ulrich couldn't seem to contain his joy, and as his wife lifted a spoonful of food to her mouth, he shouted to the entire room, "My wife's with child! I'm to be a father!"

She almost dropped her bowl in her lap as Ulrich pulled her up and kissed her fiercely on the mouth for all to see. Knights and courtiers raised their goblets and cheered with happiness for the couple.

Percival leaned over to Christiane and murmured, "I have to think you'd prefer I didn't announce your pregnancy like that."

"I'd really prefer you didn't."

Once Carina had broken free from her husband's enthusiastic and public kiss, she announced, "And my best friend in the whole world, Christiane, is with child, too! Our babes will be just a month apart," the young woman gushed.

Percival laughed at the enthusiasm, and patted his wife's hand as she acknowledged the cheerful group with a slightly uncomfortable smile and wave.

Leon had smiled and toasted his friends' good fortune, but retuned quickly to his pottage. He was pleased for them, but more convinced than ever that he'd never have such good news to share with people. He wondered how much longer he could hide his feelings of loneliness from others.

XXXX

It was a peaceful time, and life was joyful, with the exception of occasional minor frustrations.

One of those minor frustrations occurred on an evening deep in the bitter winter, when both Christiane and Carina's pregnant bellies had become much more prominent.

Dining with their husbands one night in Carina and Ulrich's chamber, the two women tore into their meal of roast duck, herbed carrots, and stewed cabbage with near wild abandon. Their appetites for food (and bedchamber activities) seemed to outpace their husbands' of late.

While everyone ate, Percival recalled a humorous conversation he'd had with Ulrich earlier that afternoon when the two had patrolled the Lower Town. Ulrich looked exhausted: completely dead on his feet. When Percival inquired why, Ulrich admitted, "My wife woke me twice in the middle of the night to, um, let's just say 'engage in marital relations.' As she's done every night for the past week." With an exhausted sigh, the young knight remarked, "If I don't get a full-night's sleep soon, I'm going to die!"

Percival chuckled to himself at the memory of the discussion while the ladies finished their meals and subsequently dug into cheesecake tarts somewhat ravenously. Right then, Christiane began to sniffle. Percival thought perhaps she had a bit of a cold, or more likely, had inhaled a small piece of dessert into her nose during her eating frenzy. A few moments later, she snuffled some more, and then began to cry in earnest.

Percival was very worried and left his seat to be at her side. "Love, what's wrong? Are you ill?" Christiane shook her head vigorously. "What is it, then?"

With tears swimming in her blue eyes and her lip quivering, she declared, "You think I'm fat!"

Percival was sure he'd misheard. "I think you're fat?" he repeated slowly, but as a question.

"See!"

"See what?"

"You DO think I'm fat!"

Percival was completely perplexed at this point, and a little frightened. "No," he said carefully, "I don't think you're fat. I was merely repeating what you said, because I thought I'd misheard. Why on earth would I think you're fat? You're carrying my child; you're not fat."

Christiane sobbed more. "You don't want to touch me anymore because you think I'm disgusting!"

Percival's eyes grew wide and he glanced at Ulrich for a second, hoping the man would somehow come to his aid, but Ulrich looked equally as chagrined, since Carina had also begun to tear-up.

"Christiane, I just 'touched' you last night," Percival reminded her.

"But not this morning!" she wailed.

"You were dead asleep! I didn't want to wake you…I know how you have trouble sleeping these days."

Out of nowhere, Christiane bawled, "I don't know if you love me anymore!"

Percival was horrified. How could she say such things? "Wife, this is madness..."

Christiane pounded her fist on the table, and yelled, "You think I'm mad?"

Percival quickly realized he couldn't win this argument, and didn't understand how this had turned into an argument at all. "I don't think you're mad, but the whole idea is mad. Please calm down."

"I am calm!" Christiane screeched, but she certainly didn't sound or look calm.

A now-crying Carina turned to Ulrich and said, "I know you think I'm fat as well! I think you'd rather have a pretty courtier with a tiny waist!"

Somehow, Ulrich seemed to understand what was happening better than Percival did. He replied, calmly, "You're beautiful, my wife. I could never think you're fat, and I have eyes for you, and you alone."

Ulrich professing adoration for his wife seemed to make Christiane boil with anger. That, and the fact her own husband had called her "mad" and told her to "calm down."

Christiane stood abruptly, jostling the dining table as she rose, demanding, "Carina! We're leaving!"

The two women promptly swept from the room, arm-in-arm. Percival tried to stop them, but Ulrich grabbed his sleeve to halt the man.

"What the hell was all of that?" Percival asked, bewildered.

"Christiane hasn't done that before?"

Percival shook his head. "She's been a little cranky because she's had some trouble sleeping, but nothing like that!"

Ulrich laughed. "Then you're a lucky man. A week or so ago, Carina began to fly into rages, accusing me of thinking she's fat, disgusting, that I hate her, or I secretly harbor desires for other women. These episodes scared me so much, I went to see the midwife, because I worried she might _actually_ be going a little mad. Mary laughed at me." Ulrich amended his statement with, "Truthfully, the woman squealed with laughter; that would be a more accurate description. She explained that pregnancy can cause women to get very emotional and say things they don't mean. She told me to just assure Carina I love her and find her beautiful, and the storm should pass quickly."

With a touch of panic in his voice, Percival asked, "You mean, this could happen, again?"

At that very moment, Carina and Christiane traipsed back into the room, still arm-in-arm, but neither was crying. They both appeared much more subdued and slightly sheepish. Christiane spoke first.

"I'm very sorry," she said, eyes to the ground. "I don't know what comes over me sometimes. This pregnancy has me very emotional and I don't always feel attractive."

"The same goes for me," explained Carina.

Ulrich dismissed their worries. "It's nothing. We're not the ones who have to carry babes in our bellies for almost a year. I'm sure we'd do far worse, right Percival?" he prompted, nodding his head very slightly at his friend.

"Of course!" Percival agreed heartily, afraid of what might happen if he did otherwise.

Percival made note he owed Ulrich a great deal for helping to avert this crisis, and was grateful he had someone close to him with whom he could share future worries about pregnancy and child-rearing.

XXXX

After King Arthur and Percival had their first impromptu meeting in the castle gardens during late autumn, they continued to meet there weekly to discuss private matters, even in the freezing temperatures. They both felt better unburdening themselves and sharing their struggles. The two men had developed a bond of friendship they felt couldn't be broken.

Percival talked about the lingering feelings of shame and guilt he experienced regarding Christiane's assault. Arthur discussed how the queen was suffering terribly about her lack of fertility, and the king admitted he was gravely worried about his wife's emotional state.

On this particular dark and frigid evening, Arthur looked decidedly stressed and haggard. He wasn't even clean-shaven, which was very unlike him. Without preamble, Arthur plopped down on the stone bench and said, "We need to leave on an overnight hunting trip at first light. I've informed Leon and Merlin. Ulrich and Gwaine are to stay behind."

"Of course, sire. We'll be ready," Percival replied. "If I may, this is an unusual time of year for an overnight hunting trip. With such bitter cold and all."

"We'll have use of a cabin," the king responded, ignoring the latter part of his knight's statement. "I'm sorry, I can't say any more about it right now. I'll see you in the morning."

The king left Percival on the bench, and went to have a conversation with one of his other knights that he'd never wanted to have.

XXXX

Arthur approached Gwaine's door, took a deep breath, and knocked forcefully. He heard Gwaine approve entry, and strode inside. Gwaine sat with his feet propped on his table, reading a book, with a cheerful fire blazing in the background.

"Good evening, my lord. What brings you here?" he asked.

Arthur took a seat across from him. "I have a request. A very personal and unusual request. You may think this is just a trick where I'm trying to test your loyalty, but I promise you, on the queen's life, that's not what I'm doing. This is a true and honest entreaty, though it's horribly humiliating and embarrassing."

"You know I'd do anything for you, sire."

"Perhaps you should wait to say that until you hear my request." The king paused, gathering his nerve. "Gwaine, I need you to bed the queen."

Gwaine stared at Arthur as if the man were speaking a foreign language. _No, _he thought. _I misheard. Or, I'm misunderstanding_.

"Sire, surely I didn't hear that correctly."

"You heard correctly. Allow me to explain."

Arthur launched into the story of how Guinevere was emotionally shattered over the fact after three years of marriage, she still had not produced an heir. He further explained they had no idea if the problem lay with the queen or with Arthur. And the only way to determine this once and for all was to have her lie with another man.

Overwhelmed by this request, Gwaine fretted, "Surely, Arthur, there must be another way!"

"The other alternative is to have me lie with a willing woman, send Guinevere away for close to a year, and have her return with that woman's babe, claiming it's ours. But she swears she could not bear the separation, and that the speculation and rumors would likely cast a great deal of doubt. Guinevere wants to reserve that option as an absolute last resort."

Still flabbergasted, Gwaine asked, "Let's be clear…you're asking me to make love to the queen; is that correct?"

The great King Arthur slumped in his seat. Gwaine had never, ever seen him look so defeated and small.

"Yes, Gwaine, that is precisely what I'm asking," confirmed the king. "I'm terrified I'll lose her otherwise."

"Let me just bring up this point:" Gwaine said, rubbing his temples as if fending off a headache, "if I agree to this, and she doesn't fall pregnant, isn't that worse? Then she'll know for a fact she's barren."

"I'd thought of that," Arthur admitted. "If that turns out to be the case, she'd consider the option of having me lie with another woman and have the lady carry our child. But not before we know for sure."

Gwaine ran his hands through his hair with nervousness and began to pace. "Arthur, this could cause serious problems in your marriage, your wife being with another man. If I agree, I fear you'll hate me afterward. Why not choose one of the younger knights or a nice nobleman?"

"Because I trust you completely. I trust your discretion and count on your silence. As it is, I had to ask young Ulrich to guard the queen's private quarters while I'm...away on a hunt. But he's aware of the circumstances. I saw no other alternative than to inform him also." Arthur stood, and gazed absently out the window. "And Guinevere insisted she feels most comfortable with you, as the two of you have a longstanding friendship. And she feels...you'd respect her."

Still feeling very uncertain, Gwaine asked, "If I were to agree, and Guinevere conceived, would I have any role in this child's life?"

"You would be responsible to help with training if it is a boy. A girl, you could still assist with basic sword techniques. Of course, you'd see him or her grow up at court. That's all I can offer," Arthur explained. "That, and the knowledge that your kindness and devotion to your king and queen produced Camelot's heir and soothed Guinevere's soul."

Arthur took a long pause before making his next statement. "And I must add this last caveat, though it pains me to say it – if you ever breathe even a word of this arrangement to anyone, I would execute you immediately and without hesitation."

"Are you going to allow me to decline if I wish?" Gwaine asked nervously.

"I would never force you. But I do beg you for your help."

"How long do I have to make my decision?"

"I'll need to know within the hour so Leon, Merlin, and Percival can begin to make their preparations for an overnight hunt with me. I can't remain in the castle while this happens," the king said grimly. "We would leave at first light tomorrow and return the following afternoon."

Gwaine pinched the bridge of his nose and then met the king's eyes for a long moment. "Arthur, out of loyalty to you and my friendship with the queen, I'll do this. And know that I will treat her with the respect, kindness, and friendship that she deserves. That both of you do."

Arthur stepped forth and clasped his trusted knight's forearm. "It is settled, then. You can meet Guinevere in her private chambers any time after dawn tomorrow." The king cautioned, "And after this moment, we shall never speak of this again."

"Agreed, my lord. May I ask one favor?"

"Anything. Lands, gold, titles, whatever you want," Arthur offered.

"None of that. You know me well enough to realize those things don't interest me. Would you just have someone inform me if the queen does, in fact, conceive?"

The king nodded slightly, and strode from the room briskly, before Gwaine could see the tears burning in his eyes.


	19. Chapter 19 The Hunt and the Queen

**A/N - Just...wow! It appears as if Guinevere and Gwaine are going to get busy! Didn't see that one coming. This is obviously going to be a real challenge in Arthur and Guinevere's marriage.**

**Chapter nineteen will focus on how the king copes (or doesn't cope) and the interaction between Gwaine and Guinevere. Does she go through with it? Find out! However, please be advised this chapter contains a good deal of highly-descriptive sex. **

**Again, I adore you, my fabulous readers. **

Chapter 19 - The Hunt and the Queen

At dawn, armed with crossbows, knives, and provisions, the king, Percival, Leon, and Merlin set off for their overnight stag and deer hunt. The men were a little startled by the fact that the king wanted to go hunting so abruptly and in such cold weather, but like the loyal knights and friends they were, they asked no questions.

The group rode for a small hunting cabin located about three hours north of the castle. They made excellent time, and as soon as the men arrived at the rustic shelter, Arthur announced he wanted to go for a walk alone, and disappeared for over an hour. During that time, Merlin and the knights unpacked and discussed the king's sullen mood and demeanor.

"Something is definitely not right," Merlin told the small group. "I can sense it. Even if I couldn't, Arthur looks miserable and hasn't shaven, and he always wants a shave. And he would never go on a hunt without Gwaine," he noted. "I tried to ask him what was troubling him, but he told me to mind my own affairs."

"Whatever it is," Leon noted with authority, "we should just do our best to help him keep his mind off his worries."

Once the king returned, the men made an effort to draw Arthur into their conversation and jokes, but were met with stony-faced silence. As they made strategic plans for the hunt, the king said nothing. Normally, Arthur led the discussions, or at a minimum, provided spirited suggestions. But this time, he glumly went along with whatever Leon and Percival suggested. The men began to worry if the dark magic from their leader's wound at Camlann was starting to take its toll.

As Merlin continued to cast concerned glances in Arthur's direction, the king finally erupted with, "Damn it, Merlin! I feel fine! Can we please just go hunt?"

The hunt went better than expected. After many hours of tracking, Arthur felled a large stag, which appeared to lift his spirits slightly. Leon and Percival dressed, skinned, and butchered the beast, as hunting and handling dead animals were not Merlin's favorite jobs.

Meanwhile, Arthur sat on the ground by the hearth inside of the cottage, drinking deeply from his wineskin. Before the others returned inside to cook a supper of venison, Arthur appeared to be asleep in a corner, and did not even rouse for his meal. The king was, in fact, awake, but feigned sleep in order to be left in peace. He couldn't stand Merlin's continued sorrowful glances and his knights pretending as if everything was fine. The other men sat around the warm hearth, eating, drinking, and laughing.

In the middle of the night, when he thought everyone else was dead asleep on their bedrolls, Arthur began to weep quietly. The thought of his beloved Guinevere sharing a bed with another man, even one he trusted so unquestioningly, was more than he could stand. He rose and began to gather his things.

Surprisingly, Percival woke, when no one else did. "Arthur, are you unwell?" he whispered, hoping no one else would wake.

"I have to leave straight away," the king informed Percival, sounding emotional.

"Sire, it's the middle of the night, and you've drunk quite a bit. That might be unwise. At least let me accompany you."

Arthur's shoulders shook with grief. "I can't stand this, Percival. I have to go back to the castle right now."

Percival had no idea what Arthur couldn't stand, but asked, "My lord, can you give me just a few minutes of your time before we leave? Just so I can understand what's happening? You know I would never betray your confidence. And obviously, something is troubling you terribly."

"Fine," Arthur agreed reluctantly. "Let's step outside."

Outside in the brutal cold, the two sat on the ground, backs resting against the cabin exterior. It took far longer than a few minutes for the king to explain the situation and his subsequent misery to Percival. The knight made every effort to keep his expression neutral, but he felt terrible for the king and understood why he was so devastated.

"Sire, please forgive me for saying this, but given the hour, I'm sure the deed is already done. Returning now isn't going to help. I would stick to the original plan of returning tomorrow afternoon. I'm sure it would make you feel far worse if you walked in on them." He paused, waiting for Arthur to argue, but he did not.

"Your love for Guinevere is like none I've ever seen," the trusted knight continued. "I understand and agree with what you've done, but I know that doesn't make the pain any less." Percival told his king honestly, "I do know this: one night with Gwaine is not going to change your wife's unyielding love for you. That much I can promise."

Without acknowledging his statement, Arthur then told Percival about the other options the royal couple had considered, such as having the king impregnate a willing woman, then sending Guinevere away for close to a year and having her return with that baby, claiming it was their own.

The king continued with, "I simply can't dismiss the image in my mind of Gwaine touching Guinevere. I can't believe I agreed to this and am regretting it already. And I realize this makes me sound very unmanly, but I don't want to touch another woman, Percival. Any more than Gwen wants to lie with Gwaine. But we don't know what else to do." He looked skyward with a heavy heart. "I know many kings have mistresses. It's often expected, really. But that's just not me."

Percival told Arthur, "I don't think that's unmanly. It makes you a good husband. I feel the same way about my wife. And I must say, I admire you for being so selfless in providing her with this gift, though it pains you terribly. If there's any couple who can make it through this, it's you and Guinevere."

The king looked solemn. "I hope so, Percival. Dear God, I do."

Arthur stood and said, "Thank you for your counsel and understanding. We'll stay the night."

The king returned to the cabin with Percival close behind.

XXXX

Earlier the previous morning in the castle, Guinevere paced the floor nervously in her private quarters. She kept walking back and forth, eyeing the stock of food and drink, and knew it was plenty to last until the following morning. Not that she'd feel like eating, but Gwaine probably would. A private privy was attached to the room by short corridor; neither would have any reason to leave.

Pacing wasn't helping, so the queen sat and brushed out her long, dark, wavy hair once again. She wore a light-pink, half-sleeved nightdress that laced up the front, with a matching lace wrap. She daubed some more rosewater on her throat and studied her reflection intently. She worried the clothing and rosewater was too forward, but she reminded herself that Gwaine was, after all, a man, and it might help if she looked acceptable and smelled decent.

Gwaine approached the queen's chamber door and spoke with Ulrich, who was already standing guard. "I can't believe I agreed to this," Gwaine said with a shake of his head.

Ulrich responded with, "Nor can I." At a loss for words, Ulrich simply said, "I'll be right outside of the door until tomorrow. Should you need anything. And…good luck."

Gwaine tapped on the heavy door and waited for Guinevere to bid him entry. It was granted, and he walked in looking the same as always with his ever-present dark facial stubble, clad in his tan trousers and a light tunic. But the sight of his friend Guinevere with her large brown eyes, hair unbound, clothed in a pink lace nightdress, was certainly something to behold.

"I always thought you were beautiful, my friend," Gwaine said, approaching the queen at her seat in front of the vanity, trying to put her at ease. "You look truly gorgeous."

Guinevere was one of the first people he'd met in Camelot, and he was immediately struck by her grace and beauty, long before she was queen. But once he discovered she loved Arthur, Gwaine put thoughts of her out of his mind, though he had indulged in the occasional fantasy or two over the years.

"That's kind of you, Gwaine. But as you can imagine, I'm very nervous and upset," she noted, her eyes shining with tears.

"I know this is much more of a hardship for you than it is for me. After all, I get to spend time with my good friend, who happens to be a beautiful queen."

Guinevere replied with, "Oh, please, I do think you're a very handsome man! I always did."

"Now the truth comes out," he joked. "What would you like to do first? Perhaps some wine to settle the nerves? Perhaps a lot of wine?"

Guinevere couldn't help but laugh at the suggestion. "Wine at this early hour? Well, why not, just this once? If ever an occasion called for it..."

She rose from her seat in front of the mirror and poured two healthy goblets of wine. They sat at the small dining table and drained their cups quickly, followed by a second goblet right after. The infusion of wine made Guinevere feel slightly more relaxed, albeit a bit fuzzy-headed, for which she was grateful.

Sensing it was probably a bad idea to waste time, Gwaine asked gently, "How do you think you'd like to start things off?" He didn't want to pressure the queen, but he also didn't think it would be helpful to wait too long and risk one of them backing out of the arrangement.

"I'd like to leave on my nightdress," she said demurely, "if that's acceptable."

"That's fine. But for this to work, I think you'll have to remove _something_," Gwaine said, referring to her undergarments, assuming she was wearing them.

Guinevere reddened slightly. "Of course, yes."

"I hate to make too many requests," said Gwaine mildly, "but it might also help if you'd allow me to unlace your nightdress in the front. When you're ready, of course. That might help, uh, help hasten our progress."

"I see. Okay." The queen's skin was flushed deep red before she told her friend, "Also, I don't think I should kiss you, or, um use my mouth on you, nor you on me." She quickly rambled, "And I don't plan to get any pleasure from this, so don't spend your time worrying about that. Just make sure you take yours."

Gwaine rose from his chair and knelt in front of the seated Guinevere, taking her hands in his. "Gwen, those are a lot of rules, and in the heat of the moment, they might be difficult to remember. Why don't we just see what happens and treat this as a lovely day and night between friends? And if you become uncomfortable with anything, you just tell me and I'll stop immediately. But it's going to be difficult for me to have any pleasure if you're unhappy through the entire time."

"All right, agreed," the queen said, relief evident in her voice. "Shall we have more wine?" she suggested.

The knight plucked the vessel from her hand and set it down on the table. "You've had two healthy goblets, so while I could handle more, maybe you should hold off for a little bit. Or you'll be snoring before we begin!"

Gwaine then studied the chamber interior intently. "Would you like to sit on the bed?"

"I know this sounds odd, but I'd like to sit on the edge of the table. I don't know why. That's the image I've had in my head about how we would start things out." Hotly embarrassed by her bold statement, Gwen said, "Forgive me; that was a very brazen suggestion."

"That works for me," Gwaine commented as he lifted the queen from her chair and set her down on the edge of the thick oak dining table.

Gwaine removed the queen's lace wrap, leaving her in her form-fitting nightdress. He carelessly tossed his own shirt onto the floor. Holding her hands, Gwaine admired the queen and stated, "You really are a true beauty. Even better than I'd imagined. And I must admit, I _have_ imagined from time to time." The knight began to unlace the front of her nightdress, feeling Gwen tremble slightly as he did so. He stopped immediately.

"No, it's okay," Gwen said. "Go on."

And he did, finally exposing the large, full, gorgeous breasts he'd always discreetly admired from a distance. Gwaine was aroused instantly. "May I touch you?" he asked huskily. The queen nodded.

Gwaine cupped Guinevere's breasts and began to caress them. He moaned with pleasure at the weight and feel of them in his hands. The knight then rubbed his thumbs gently over each nipple, and as they hardened, he took one into his mouth and licked it slowly. Gwaine slid his tongue back and forth between both breasts, paying close attention to each one before moving to the other. Guinevere sighed in approval, and he continued his attention to each breast, mumbling, "So sweet," under his breath.

The queen was intrigued by the new sensation of scratchy stubble against her chest, and it was very pleasant, yet quite unlike her husband's touch. Guinevere leaned back slightly and Gwaine slid his hands to her waist.

She asked, "Can I undress you now?" and he encouraged her to do so. After his trousers fell, he figured it was a good moment to lose his drawers as well.

The queen had seen only one man naked before in her life, her husband. Gwaine looked quite different, she observed. His waist was a bit narrower, body hair much darker, and his erection, while not quite as long as Arthur's, was very thick and pointed upward with more of a curve. Without asking permission, Guinevere first ran her hands along his chest, then down to his lower abdomen, and finally took his length into her hand and stroked it tentatively.

Gwaine groaned. "My lady, you shouldn't do too much of that."

"I'm sorry," she said, flustered, unsure of what she'd done wrong.

"Oh, don't be sorry. That felt amazing. I just want to make sure I save myself for the main event," he teased.

Gwaine moved forward a bit and boldly hiked up the queen's nightdress as she sat on the table. It was immediately apparently she wore no undergarment. He pressed his erection between the apex of her thighs, not entering her, but gently sliding against her. The aroused knight found her warm and ready to receive him. He replaced his length with his finger, paying close attention to the swollen bundle of nerves between her legs, and worked it carefully. Lost in the delicious feelings of passion, Gwen began to groan and moved her hips forward, inviting more contact.

Gwaine leaned his forehead against hers as he continued to lavish attention on her, and said, "I'm sorry," just as he pressed his lips firmly against hers. He simply couldn't help but kiss the queen, and she didn't protest.

After several minutes of touching, caressing, and deep, passionate kisses, Gwaine felt as if he might burst, and had the feeling Gwen was close to that point, too. "Are you ready?" he finally asked.

"Yes, please," she purred, sounding as if she were aching with need.

Gwen held onto the back of Gwaine's muscled shoulders as he entered her in one swift motion. It took her a moment to adjust to this thickness, but she found he felt wonderful inside of her, which was not what she'd expected. Not better than her husband, but certainly different.

Gwaine grit his teeth as he thrust inside of the captivating Guinevere. He'd never been with a woman so tight or so intoxicating before. But he told himself he didn't care if he had to last for an hour, or two hours, he was going to make the queen come apart in his arms. He would do this. He would.

After many minutes of the two groaning and sighing, with Gwaine intermittently commenting, "So beautiful," and, "God, please," he lowered Guinevere's back onto the table, and moved her legs over his shoulders. He continued to pump inside of her, harder and faster than ever, and moved on hand downward to work her swollen center as he moved. He felt her begin to tremble ever so slightly, and tighten herself against his cock; he knew she was close.

As much as she didn't want to, Guinevere couldn't seem to help herself as she came forcefully with a loud scream. Gwaine had planned to keep going until she'd come again, but he couldn't hold off. After her scream of passion, he spilled his seed with a loud gasp.

There was no going back now; the deed was done.

Gwaine carefully withdrew himself, and said to Guinevere, "I usually avoid trying to get women with child, but I think you should probably lie there for a minute before you move. I'll get you a wet cloth so you can freshen up."

He brought Gwen a cloth and excused himself to use the privy and walked down the short corridor to the privy closet. He leaned his head against the cold stone wall for a moment after he closed the door. Gwaine hadn't expected to have enjoyed himself as much as he did, and didn't think the queen would be so responsive and eager. Her exquisitely tight sex, gorgeous, full breasts, and obvious enjoyment of his touch were nearly enough to bring the man to his knees. He prayed she would lie to her husband about their time together. He then prayed she'd say nothing at all.

Gwaine returned to the chamber with a somewhat forced smile on his face, only to find Gwen in bed, dozing. He thought a bit of rest might do him good, too. He wasn't sure if it was appropriate to enter the bed without an invitation, but Guinevere woke briefly and pulled the covers back, indicating Gwaine should join her. He slid into bed and held her gently as they both slept.

A few hours later, it was early afternoon, and the two found themselves famished. Gwaine also found himself with an aching erection touching the queen's bottom. He tried to get up, thinking they could both do with some food, but Guinevere's hand stopped him. He was still spooning her, and as she faced away from him, she asked, "Take me from behind, will you?"

Not one to dismiss such a request from a beautiful woman, he did. Gwaine eased into her wet folds, kneading her breast with one hand while kissing the back of her rosewater-scented neck, thrusting urgently. This time, they both found their releases quickly.

"Don't get up," Gwaine insisted, pulling on his drawers and walking over to the dining table. "I'll make us a plate and we can eat in bed."

They feasted hungrily on bread, cheese, and fruits, laughing and joking like the old friends they were. Once they'd devoured their food and cleared the plates, Gwaine joked, "I'd rather feast on you."

"And I, you," said Gwen. She rose from the bed and before Gwaine knew what was happening, she fell to her knees, lowered his drawers, and had her mouth sealed around his cock, sucking vigorously.

Though the sensation was heavenly, Gwaine immediately said, "No, no, we need to save my precious fluid!"

The queen stood, and he cupped her face and asked, "Would you let me please you like that?" When she seemed unsure for a moment, he indicated, "Of course, you don't have to let me, but it would arouse me more than you can imagine."

She took Gwaine's hand and led him back to the bed, then settled back on the pillows. Before she changed her mind, Gwaine dove between her legs, and immediately began lapping at her folds and her core. From that first second, she writhed in ecstasy, grabbing the sheets with her fists, burying her hands in his long hair, and moaning with delight. He licked her rapidly, moving two fingers within her as he coaxed the most forceful orgasm from her that he'd ever felt from a woman. Once again, she called out in pleasure.

Gwaine realized he'd been rubbing himself against the sheets as he pleasured her, and was near release himself. Not wanting anything to go to waste, he pushed into her, and three thrusts later, he was spent.

With a somewhat goofy smile, Gwaine said, "Sorry. Those precious fluids..."

Gwen was breathless. "You know, you're excellent at this."

He smoothed a damp lock away from her cheek. "You make it all too easy."

Exhausted and sore from their vigorous lovemaking, Guinevere and Gwaine agreed to take a break from said activities until evening time. They ate, read, and the queen jokingly tried to teach Gwaine how to embroider, but to no avail. The two had a pleasant time taking about the old days, before Guinevere had become queen and before Camlann. For a while, she forgot her troubles.

The sun had set a few hours prior, and Gwaine started a blazing fire in the hearth. He asked the queen, "So, do you think we should do it one more time tonight? Then once more in the morning? Just to be certain?"

Guinevere looked thoughtful. "That's probably best." A moment of sadness overtook her. "Gwaine, you know I love Arthur more than anything, don't you?"

"I do. And I love both of you as friends, and I love you as your subject," He continued with, "That's why tomorrow, when Arthur returns home, I need you to tell him we were together only twice, and while I treated you kindly, you thought only of him the whole time. And that you didn't enjoy it. Tell Arthur I was a lousy lover and could never compare to a king. I know that's not true, but I feel sick with worry that the king will hate me."

"He could never hate you, nor could I. But I agree, to say that is best. I'll also take a hot bath to wash away any trace of you." The queen's eyes seemed a little sad with that last comment.

Gwaine wanted to lighten the mood. "In the meantime, let's have fun together. Oh, and I intend to get you out of that lace nightdress!" He proclaimed, teasingly chasing her around the chamber.

They made love again that evening before bed. He did, in fact, talk her out of her lace. They spent the night sleeping in the large, comfortable bed, and enjoyed each other's bodies one last time at dawn. They both felt emotional that last time, as they knew they'd never be joined in such a way again. During the final moments, Gwaine uttered, "My beautiful queen."

They had shared a special time, not to be forgotten, but never to be repeated. Yet they were still friends, and always would be.

As the two dressed, just before Gwaine took his leave, he said, "Gwen, I know we will never speak of this again. But if you do fall pregnant, in your heart, will you sometimes remember this child is also mine?"

She smiled and told her good friend, "I could never forget."

Gwaine closed the door quietly behind him. Ulrich looked tired, with bloodshot eyes, as he'd remained awake all night on guard. And the man had heard everything.

Ulrich said to his comrade, "I truly hope this doesn't turn into a complete disaster."

"You and me both, my friend," Gwaine told his friend before departing.

XXXX

Guinevere soaked in a hot bath in her shared chambers while one of her maids used a scrub-brush on the queen's skin. Guinevere wanted to look radiant and well-rested for Arthur's return, to help him understand she'd been anxiously waiting for him, which was the truth. She desperately wanted her husband to hold her, yet she was also frightened of how he might react when he returned.

Another maid entered the king and queen's shared quarters, and the two women worked diligently on drying Gwen's long locks, styling it carefully but loosely (as Arthur preferred), and laced her into a rich red gown. Guinevere asked her maids to stay a while and sit with her, as she had no desire to be alone with her thoughts as she waited for her king.

A couple of hours later it was late afternoon, and word reached the castle that the king, his knights, and Merlin had returned. Arthur took the stairs two-at-a-time in order to reach his queen as swiftly as possible. He felt the need to touch her immediately, to claim her once again as his own.

As Percival and Leon ascended the stairs, Ulrich seemed to materialize out of nowhere, and the young knight grabbed the back of Percival's shirt, ushering him into a corner.

Before Ulrich could utter a word, Percival told him, "I know."

"You do?" Ulrich asked with surprise. "Well, it's probably worse than you thought. I stood guard yesterday and last night, and if the king senses the kind of night Gwaine and his wife shared, he's going to erupt. They, ah, seemed to enjoy each other's company. Quite frequently and vigorously, if you understand what I mean. And I think that was rather unexpected."

Percival ran his hands over his unshaven face, worried. "This isn't good. We need to remain close by and keep an eye on Arthur and Gwaine." Almost as an afterthought, Percival asked, "And where is Gwaine?"

"In his quarters, probably getting some sleep."

"Go tell him to bolt his door. And for God's sake, warn him about Arthur."

While Ulrich ran to do as the older knight had instructed, Arthur entered his shared chambers. He found Guinevere chatting with her maids, looking slightly worn and tired. The queen dismissed her help, and ran into Arthur's welcoming embrace. She began to weep from guilt, fear, and relief. Her sobs set-off Arthur as well, and he began to cry.

Once they'd both sufficiently calmed down, Arthur whispered into Gwen's ear, "Please tell me you'll have me now. I need you."

She'd hoped he would ask this. "Yes," she responded heartily.

Arthur became bit frustrated by all of the lacing and small fastenings he had to manipulate in order to remove his wife's dress, but he knew it would be worth the wait. Once the garment was removed, he noted she had very little on underneath it, and dropped his own trousers at once, in too much of a hurry to remove his tunic. He fell onto the bed with his queen, mouth locked onto hers, tongue exploring her mouth eagerly. He thrust into her with great urgency, desperate for her comfort and love.

It took nothing more than the faintest of grimaces from his wife for him to realize she was sore. Then, Arthur didn't know how he could have missed it, but he noticed a slight irritation on her neck, likely, a whisker burn. And not his. He disengaged from her immediately and saw another offending mark on the inside of her upper left thigh. In that instant, he knew. The king knew she'd been with Gwaine over and over again, and she'd enjoyed it.

Arthur sprang up from the bed, horrified and disoriented. He scrambled around wildly for his clothing, desperate to leave before he hurt someone.

It took a few moments for Guinevere to understand what was happening, but when she caught a glimpse of her inner thigh, she understood. "Please, Arthur, it was nothing!" She started to lie, praying and hoping he'd believe her. "It was only a couple of times, just to be sure. I didn't get any pleasure from it!" Her next statement was completely true: "I love you and want _only_ you. Your touch, your body's the only one I crave."

Her words fell on deaf ears. Arthur couldn't even look at Guinevere as he bolted from the chamber, grabbing his traveling cloak as he fled. He had to get out of the castle before he was sick. Fortunately, the king made it to a secluded area of the gardens before he bent forward and vomited. He stood and wiped his mouth, carefully considering if he should go upstairs to kill Gwaine first, or get blind-drunk at the tavern. He opted to get blind-drunk, and would think about killing his loyal friend later.

When the king arrived at the tavern minutes later, his cloak was securely wrapped around him, mostly concealing his face. Camelot residents knew this was a sign that he should be granted privacy. The tavern owner tended to the king personally.

"My lord, what can I get you?" Will asked discreetly.

"A large pitcher of mead, if you would. Only one tankard is necessary," Arthur requested. "Thank you."

"Right away," Will responded, returning a few moments later with a pitcher and tankard. He set them down on the table carefully and with a slight bow, left the king to his thoughts.

Arthur did nothing but guzzle mead. Once the first pitcher was empty, he ordered a second, which Will promptly served. After the first few gulps of the fresh mead, Arthur knew he needed to stop drinking, or he'd never make it back to the castle. The king left his money on the table and stumbled from the tavern into the winter-evening cold, dreaming up vicious and horrible ways in which he could slaughter Gwaine, each mental image more stunningly brutal and grotesque than the last.

Staggering home, the king mumbled to himself, "That son of a bitch was just supposed to do it once or twice. He wasn't supposed to pleasure her over and over, the bastard!"

As Arthur reached the castle entryway with some difficulty, Ulrich and Percival were there to greet him. The two knights walked alongside him, making small talk, acting as if everything was fine and normal. But even in his highly-inebriated state, the king was onto them; he knew the knights wanted to keep him as far away from Gwaine as possible.

Pretending to be interested in their conversation about some new crossbows, Arthur shocked the two men when he took off for Gwaine's quarters at a dead run. Drunk or not, the king was fast on his feet. The two knights raced after Arthur, and Percival was just able to grab the back of the king's cloak as he reached Gwaine's chamber. With a white-hot rage building inside of him, Arthur somehow managed to wrestle himself out of the huge knight's grip and kicked Gwaine's chamber door wide open, sword drawn.

"That really wasn't necessary, Arthur," said Gwaine, seated in his dining-table chair, looking unperturbed. "I've been expecting you and the door was unlocked."

Percival and Ulrich rushed into the room and stood close behind Arthur, ready to tackle the man in an instant if necessary. Although such an act would be considered treasonous, they couldn't allow the drunk king to execute their friend, a man who'd done nothing wrong.

"Leave us," Gwaine told his friends.

The knights began to protest, but Gwaine insisted they depart and ushered them out. The door was broken, but it still closed partially. Ulrich and Percival stood directly outside, silently, just in case.

The king, vibrating with fury, stood with his sword pointed at Gwaine's chest and commanded, "Get on your knees." Seemingly stone-cold sober now, he ranted, "I can't stand it, Gwaine. What have you done to me?"

As instructed by his king, Gwaine went to his knees, eyes cast to the floor and arms outstretched behind him, as was the typical execution position. He chose his next words very carefully, in case they were his last.

"Sire, I did nothing but treat your queen with the kindness and tenderness she deserves. Would you rather I mistreated her? Brought her to tears? Cared nothing for her feelings or comfort?"

"A long continuum exists between mistreating her and what you did," Arthur argued, weapon shaking violently in his hand.

"Then I humbly ask for your forgiveness. I care for you and the queen." Gwaine still looked at the floor. "You may not believe this right now, but my love and respect for you is great, Arthur. I wish I could take away your pain, but I can't. I only hope that the end result of all of this is a child, your child, who you can hold close to your heart." Then knight bowed his head lower. "I've nothing more to say, my lord. I place myself at your mercy."

Arthur thought of how easy it would be to slice Gwaine's head off; the man wouldn't even have time to resist! But Arthur knew his loyal knight was correct. Gwaine had done only what had been asked of him. The king wished his wife had enjoyed her time with Gwaine less, far less, but it was done. Was it worth killing his friend over this? Disrupting the peace of the kingdom? He was the leader of Camelot; he had to behave rationally and honorably. But the king needed to know one thing.

"Does she still love me?" Arthur inquired, sword still pointed at Gwaine, instantly feeling like a foolish child for asking such a thing.

Still on his knees but daring to look up slightly, Gwaine said, "Arthur, she cried when I entered the room and nearly backed out of the whole arrangement. The last words she said to me before I left were that she loves you more than anything."

The king seemed somewhat satisfied by that answer and sheathed his sword. He asked Gwaine to stand, and then punched the man in the face with every ounce of strength he could muster. Even Percival and Ulrich standing outside of the door could hear the sickening crunch of their good friend's nose breaking. Gwaine pressed his hands against his face to stem the bleeding.

"Now, we're even," Arthur stated matter-of-factly. "Go see Gaius and Christiane about that. And don't think that means you can skip training tomorrow."

The king turned on his heel and left while Ulrich and Percival entered to tend to their bloodied friend.

"That looks horrible," Ulrich commented with a grimace while examining his friend's injury.

Speaking in a muffled tone through his broken nose, Gwaine responded, "Coming from a one-armed knight, I must look pretty damn bad."


	20. Chapter 20 A Note

**A/N - Yes, Gwaine and the queen did the deed! And no, Arthur's not dealing with it well. At all. I don't blame him; I know I'd freak out if I were in his position.**

**Another very interesting turn of events will happen during chapter twenty, which is a shorter one. Christiane and Carina are asked to help the king. I don't want to say too much about it, but it's something else that will put another strain on the royal marriage. And, did Guinevere conceive? We'll find out during this chapter. **

**Thank you so much for continuing to read my story. It means more than I can say.**

Chapter 20 - A Note

Gaius and Christiane fixed Gwaine's nose well enough, but it appeared as if it would never sit perfectly straight again.

"How many people can brag that they were punched in the face by a king and lived to talk about it?" Christiane joked.

Life in the castle seemed to return to some semblance of normalcy. The king and queen appeared to be getting along well enough as they waited eagerly to see if Gwen was with child. Arthur even seemed to forgive Gwaine's perceived transgressions. All was calm for the moment.

However, three weeks later, Gwaine received a note from the king bearing the royal wax seal. It was written in Arthur's own hand, and contained one word – "No."

Gwaine's time with Gwen hadn't produced a child. She was certainly barren, and the knight imagined the queen was devastated.

A few days after writing the note, Arthur summoned Christiane and Carina to his council chamber. They were nervous, as the two women had never had a semi-private audience with the king before. The friends entered the council room and curtsied deeply.

"Welcome, Carina and Christiane. Thank you for coming to see me. Please have a seat," Arthur politely offered.

The women sat at the council table as Arthur explained why he'd summoned them. "I trust your husbands completely, therefore I trust you both equally. I need your help. Once again, I find myself in a somewhat embarrassing position and need assistance. I hope that you can help me."

"Your Highness, it would be an honor to help you," said Christiane.

Looking grim, the king responded, "I hope you still think that once you've heard what I need."

Arthur was tired of telling the story of his wife's troubles conceiving a child. But he pressed on and told the ladies that Guinevere was barren, yet he didn't specify how he knew, and the ladies knew better than to ask. In light of Guinevere's problems conceiving, the king explained that he and the queen wanted to proceed with Arthur impregnating another woman, but this woman would have to be willing to give up the child to the royal couple. He explained he and his wife needed a lady who could be trusted to never say a word.

"She would have to live away from Camelot while pregnant, but could return afterward." Arthur explained, "The woman would be provided for fully during her time away, attended to with the best medical and midwifery care, and would be compensated richly afterward. In other words, she would never have to worry about a home or gold for the rest of her life.

"One of my concerns about this situation is that I wouldn't want the woman to feel like...like a prostitute. I want to emphasize that her compensation would be for her kindness and generosity in carrying our child, not for having sex with the king," he stated plainly.

Arthur appeared even more flustered and uncomfortable at the end of his request, and Carina and Christiane felt for him. They loved the king and queen and felt very sorry that the royal couple found themselves in such a position and needed to resort to these measures. They'd been nothing but fair, just, and kind rulers and did not deserve this heartache. Christiane spoke first.

"Sire, we understand and are very sorry for the troubles you and the queen have had. We know how desperately she wants a baby; I can see it in her eyes." Christiane paused thoughtfully. "Would you mind if Carina and I dismissed ourselves for a few minutes? I have a few suggestions in mind, but I'd prefer to discuss them with my friend in private, if that's acceptable to you."

"By all means."

The friends took their leave and elected to converse in a private section of the gardens. They each had several ideas about which woman would be most appropriate, but in the end, narrowed it down to the one woman they both felt would be willing, kind enough, discreet, and highly loyal to the king and queen. And it didn't hurt that this woman had once joked about the fact that Arthur was "the sexiest king Camelot has seen in centuries."

The ladies returned to the council chamber. Arthur looked up from some documents he was reviewing, and asked, "Do you have someone in mind for me?"

"We do, sire," Christiane said as she and Carina took seats once again. "The woman we have in mind is very loyal and thinks highly of you. She has a child, a four-year-old. We thought it would be important to know that she has the ability to bear healthy children. She is a kind, smart woman. The lady we have in mind was widowed when the doracha attacked; she discovered she was with child shortly thereafter."

Arthur's face fell slightly. When he heard the word "widow," in his mind's eye, he saw an older woman, probably unattractive. He felt ashamed for having these thoughts, as the woman's appearance should be the last worry on his mind.

"This, um, this woman is older?" he asked while looking down at his papers again, shuffling them, attempting to hide his concern.

"What, my lord?" Christiane asked, understanding his question at the very last moment. "Oh, no, no!" she said with a slight laugh. "She married at seventeen and had her son when she was eighteen. That makes her twenty-two now, a bit younger than you. The woman in question, Drea, is quite pretty. She has dark auburn hair, blue eyes, and a fair complexion. She's on the taller side, close to my height, and has a voluptuous build, but not too voluptuous. And, if I may be so bold to add, she's indicated in the past she finds you quite handsome."

Arthur looked up suddenly. "She said that?" He never really thought about his subjects finding him attractive or not.

Carina confirmed, "She did, sire."

The king's brow wrinkled slightly as he asked, "Should I come with you to talk to her?"

Christiane said quickly, "No, sire, that would probably be too great a shock for her. I think it would be best if we saw her first, assessed the situation, and then reported back to you."

Christiane also mentioned, "And if she agrees to this arrangement, I think we can best obscure her identity by bringing her to the castle under the cover of night, giving an excuse that she's your mistress, should anyone begin to ask questions."

The king stared dolefully out the window. "I never wanted a mistress; only my wife." With a frown, Arthur disclosed, "All of the deceit and hiding pains me. But at this point, I see no other alternative. Can you go today, and report back to me as soon as you're able?"

"Consider it done," Christiane confirmed.

With respectful curtsies, the women departed the council chamber for their friend's home.

XXXX

Christiane and Carina called on Drea straight away. They found her son Wallace, running around the cottage's small garden with a child-sized wooden sword, stabbing at pretend foes, his shaggy, dark hair bouncing around his face. Wallace told anyone who would listen that he would be a knight of Camelot one day, and made it a point to behave "chivalrously" to the ladies, though he had difficulty even pronouncing that word. As the two young women approached, Wallace bowed, and said, "My ladies!"

The friends laughed and responded with curtsies and, "My lord," then went inside to visit with Drea.

Drea was a talented weaver and many of her fine tapestries hung in the castle. She turned from her current project to the door when she heard a knock and told her friends to come inside.

"Something's going on, I can tell," said Drea from her weaving stool the moment the women entered her tidy cottage. "Something significant. Let's just have out with it."

"Fine, we'll get straight to the point," said Christiane, she and Carina drawing chairs close to Drea. "Would you go to bed with the king and carry his child for him?"

Drea dissolved into laughter. "Please, really, why are you here?" No one spoke, but the two friends gave her a half-smile. Drea's hands flew up to her mouth. "My God, you're serious? This is true? King Arthur? Is he commanding me to do so?"

Christiane took the young widow's hand. "You know Arthur. He would never command something like this. We suggested you because of your loyalty to the king and queen. You're a kind and discreet woman, and we trust you, as he would."

Drea shook her head in disbelief. "This just seems so impossible." She looked from Carina to Christiane, hoping they were about to inform her this was just a big joke. Once it was clear they weren't about to do so, Drea said, "All right, tell me more, I'm listening."

It took about half an hour for Christiane and Carina to explain the royal couple's difficult situation. After hearing the long tale, Drea sighed.

"I feel for them. I want to help, and the idea of being able to provide for my son better is appealing, but it does make me feel a bit...whore-ish. And I've never been with a man besides my departed husband!" she exclaimed. "And that was five years ago."

The three talked about the decision for another hour. In the end, Drea concluded that the honor of carrying the king and queen's baby, being able to provide a gift so precious outweighed any reservations she might have.

Carina said gently, "You should probably meet with him two separate times, just to be...sure. We'll bring you at night, and no one will know. Well, only a few of us will know. Either Christiane or I will sit with Wallace while you're with the king."

"Fine, it's decided, then," said Drea with a degree of finality. "When do you think he'll want to see me?"

"In two evenings' time," Carina offered.

The women parted ways and Christiane and Carina returned to the castle to give the king the news immediately. He remained in his council chambers all of this time later, nervously shuffling papers when they entered.

"Well?" Arthur asked the duo immediately.

"She's agreed to it, sire," Christiane explained, "and will see you the evening after tomorrow. Then another visit at your convenience."

The king looked disappointed, concern etched on his features. "I appreciate all of your help, I do, and I'll go through with this. It's just that a part of me hoped she'd decline so I wouldn't have to. Or, that I could put this off longer. How ridiculous of me, right?" he huffed. "Most kings would love this. I'm sure every other leader of the Five Kingdoms would be dying to have other women besides his queen in his bed. I'm probably foolish."

Christiane asked, "May I approach you, sire?" He consented. She put her hand on his shoulder very lightly and said, "It means only that you love your queen desperately, and most women could only dream of such love."

"Can I ask you a very personal question, Christiane? You don't have to answer it if you don't want to," Arthur qualified. When she responded in the affirmative, he inquired, "If your husband were to do this, how would you feel? And please be honest with me."

"The truth is, my lord, the idea of my husband with another woman would hurt me greatly. However, if such an arrangement was the only reasonable option to have a child, I would come to accept it. And for you, it appears to be the only option. I would only suggest that you pay extra attention and care to your wife during this time, and if you can, perhaps take a short trip when it's done so she may have your undivided attention and love."

"That's sound counsel, Christiane, and I thank you. No wonder Percival often compliments your wisdom."

After a brief pause, Arthur said, "Thank you ladies, that is all."

And they were dismissed.


	21. Chapter 21 The King and His Subject

**A/N - It looks as if Christiane and Carina have found a suitable woman to carry the royal baby! In chapter twenty, we got to know Drea a little bit better and met her adorable son, Wallace. Drea's a bit spunky, that's for certain. **

**During chapter twenty one, Arthur spends an evening with Drea. I don't want to give anything away, so please read it and see what you think. Though I will tell you, Arthur's terribly nervous. Very, very nervous. And yes, there's sex again. Of course.**

**And welcome, CalaisForever! I am so glad you're following my story.**

**Thank you everyone, for being such loyal readers. It means so much to me.**

Chapter 21 – The King and His Subject

As is typical, when one is terribly nervous about an event, time seems to move with stunning rapidity. It felt as if two evenings passed before Arthur so much as had a moment to take a full breath.

Guinevere spent that evening in her private quarters with one of her maids, Christiane, and Lindara. The queen hoped her trusted maid and close friends would be able to take her mind off the activities scheduled to happen very shortly in the guest quarters a few levels below them. Carina was at Drea's home, minding Wallace.

In the meantime, Arthur sat on the edge of the bed in one of the castle's spacious and well-appointed guest chambers. He'd never spent much time in this particular room, but thought it was comfortable enough. He bounced on the plush mattress lightly, testing it, and suddenly had the wild thought that he could summon a younger knight to come in and have sex with this woman, but claim he had done it himself. He sighed with frustration, acknowledging that would do nothing but complicate things more and upset all involved parties even further.

The king had busied himself with tending to the fire when he heard a slight rap on the chamber door and went to open it. Ulrich had escorted Drea to the castle, and she entered the dimly-lit room swiftly and quietly, shutting the door behind her. The woman's green traveling cloak was still wrapped around her tightly with the hood raised, mostly covering her face.

The visitor removed her outerwear and draped it over her arm. Arthur exhaled loudly with relief as she revealed her face. Drea was certainly a beauty. Very unlike Guinevere, she was still an alluring sight. Whereas his queen had an olive complexion, Drea was incredibly fair, with a light dusting of freckles across the very tops of her cheekbones. Her long auburn hair was thick and glossy; she had a full backside and hips, and an ample bosom. In her deep green dress, Drea appeared far younger than in her twenties; she looked to be eighteen, at most.

The young woman curtsied slightly and said, "It's an honor to meet you in person, Your Highness."

Arthur, staring at the woman before him and ignoring her introduction completely, began to prattle nervously. "You look so young. Are you really twenty-two? Never mind that, let me take your cloak," he offered as he extended his hand to take the garment. "Would you like some wine? That's a nice dress. And you are very pretty."

Drea waited for the king to cease his litany of questions and comments before she responded. She also noticed the man was flushed and sweating quite a lot, as if he'd just returned from a run around the city.

"I'm fairly certain I'm twenty-two, sire," she said teasingly. "Thank you for taking my cloak and yes, I would like some wine. I'm very nervous."

"You're not the only one. I've, ah, never done anything like this before," he explained. "I mean, I've been only with my wife and no one else."

"I've certainly never been with a king."

Arthur chuckled. "No, I suppose not."

The king approached the small dining table and poured two cups of wine, filling them nearly to the brim. He and Drea then drank, standing in complete quiet. Seconds passed as they sipped, then it was nearly a full minute of uncomfortable silence. It was so quiet, the king could hear his own ragged, nervous breathing.

Drea smiled at Arthur and she began to speak, but without meeting her eyes, the king said abruptly, "Please don't think I'm rude, but I'd like to get this over with. Immediately." He sensed his nerve failing, and felt if he didn't act forthwith, he'd never be able to go through with this plan.

"Of course, my lord. What would you like me to do?" she asked, placing her wine goblet down on the bedside table.

Voice shaking, Arthur requested, "Can you just, um, lean over the bed?"

"Would you like me to remove anything first?" Drea asked with some confusion.

"No, no just...if you could lift your skirts, that'll be sufficient."

She obeyed. Drea took a few nervous steps toward the bed and then leaned over it, chest pressed into the soft mattress, and her feet planted firmly onto the floor. Still clothed in her emerald-colored dress, she waited for the king.

Sweating even more profusely with unease, the front of his tunic nearly soaked at this point, Arthur placed his cup of wine on the floor, positioned himself behind Drea and dropped his trousers. Realizing he could do nothing with a flaccid cock, he spat on his hand and grasped himself roughly, producing the most mediocre erection he'd ever had. He pulled Drea's undergarments down very slightly and tried to press into her with a wince. Without any preparation, not so much as a touch, her body wasn't ready to receive him, yet Arthur had managed to jam his way partially in.

Drea couldn't help but whisper a muffled, "Ouch," and Arthur lost his erection immediately, knowing he'd caused her discomfort.

The king took a step back and groaned apologetically. "I'm so sorry; let me try again."

Arthur did the same thing once more: the spit, the abrupt entry, one failed thrust, and then nothing. He stood back, light hair now completely wet with perspiration, his skin hot to the touch.

"I don't think I can do this," he admitted, sounding defeated, yanking up his drawers and trousers.

"My lord," Drea said kindly as she readjusted her skirts and turned to face the king, "can I speak plainly and make a suggestion or two?"

"I beg you to do so. And please, call me Arthur."

"All right, Arthur. May I touch you for a moment?" He nodded and Drea moved toward him and pushed the blonde, damp hair back from his forehead.

"I don't want to be indelicate, but you've already been inside me, however briefly, so, we've _had_ sex. In order for things to proceed more smoothly, perhaps we should remove a little more clothing, and maybe touch one another before we try again," the beautiful redhead suggested.

"I know, I'm sorry, I was selfish and foolish." Arthur glanced away from her. "You might think me weak idiot, but can we talk a bit first? That might help settle my nerves."

"I think nothing of the sort," Drea told him honestly. "I've always admired your kindness and good heart from afar. It would calm me to talk for a while, too."

"I'm very embarrassed that I haven't considered your needs or feelings at all. I apologize. I can't imagine any of this is easy for you, either," offered Arthur. "Let's have a seat, shall we?"

They sat on the edge of the bed and talked. Arthur inquired about her deceased husband and learned he'd been a farrier. Drea explained she'd met her spouse because she had been a frequent visitor of the local stables, as she adored horses. And over time, she had come to adore her husband's kind, loving nature as well. Arthur also inquired about her work as a weaver, and discovered that she had woven one of his favorite tapestries that hung in his council chamber.

"Do you have horses now?" Arthur asked.

"No, my beautiful dappled mare died a few months back; she was getting on in age. And they're very expensive to keep anyway. I borrow my neighbor's when I need to. They're very good about it."

Arthur made a mental note he'd provide Drea with a new horse.

Drea then picked up the wine goblet that Arthur had set down on the floor earlier and handed it to him. She sipped from her own goblet as she asked the king a few questions. She inquired about Arthur's favorite subjects that he'd been tutored in as a boy, and the king admitted he preferred sword- and combat-training to his other lessons. And he also confessed that he hated his Latin tutoring more than anything. Drea laughed at this proclamation.

"Do you remember any Latin at all?" she inquired.

Arthur smiled and answered, "You think I'd recall a lot after being stuck in a room with my tutor for hours and hours on end." After reflecting for a moment, the king said, "I remember one phrase very well – _vox nihili_. It means, 'the voice of nothing.' Whenever I didn't know an answer, which was much of the time, that's what I'd tell my tutor. And then he'd swat my head. I don't blame him; I was a bit of a pest."

The two laughed at this, feeling much more at ease with one another. Casual conversation and a few extra sips of wine had helped calm their nerves somewhat.

Arthur met Drea's eyes and inquired, "Can I ask you one more thing, Drea?"

"Certainly; anything."

"I heard a rumor that you find me handsome. Is this true?" the king asked somewhat shyly.

Drea's cheeks flushed pink. "It is. I and nearly every other woman of Camelot think so. Only, I didn't say you were handsome." She turned away, slightly flustered. "I said you were...sexy."

Arthur chuckled. "Well, I'm very flattered. I find you sexy also. Your shape is just gorgeous," he observed, his eyes roaming her lovely body.

"Perhaps you could help me out of my dress," she suggested, sensing he might now be agreeable. "I have a modest shift on underneath, if you'd prefer I leave it on."

Arthur paused thoughtfully. "No. I'd like to see all you. If that's all right."

"It is. May I see all of you as well?"

Nervous once again, he answered, "Yes."

"Let's make sure we kick off our shoes of first," Drea teased as they both stood. "No point in wearing boots to bed."

After the shoes were discarded, it didn't take long for Arthur to remove Drea's dress, as it had only a few simple laces in the back.

Arthur had begun to run his hands up and down the sides of Drea's shift, which clung to her delicious curves. Before he could object, Drea pulled the shift up over her head and deposited it on the nearby table. She wore no corset, as her dress had sewn-in boning, and she stepped out of her undergarments hurriedly. Drea was nervous about being undressed in front of the king, and wondered what he might think of her body.

She needn't have worried, because Arthur nearly drooled at the sight. He was mesmerized by the woman's porcelain skin and her full, large breasts. The thatch of auburn hair between her legs was so different than what he was used to, and he ached to feel it.

Sensing this might be a good time to approach Arthur, she walked toward him and tugged his tunic over his head, tracing he lines of his now-bare chest and abdomen lightly with her finger. Drea brushed her full, pink lips lightly against the king's chest, and Arthur immediately began to feel the crotch of his trousers becoming snug. He unlaced them and kicked them off, then stripped off his drawers.

Drea's eyes widened slightly as she admired the king's finely muscled body and impressive erection. "It felt rather large inside of me, but now seeing it, I know why it hurt that much."

"I didn't mean to hurt you," the king said huskily.

She positioned her body against his, allowing Arthur's erection to rest against her abdomen, and whispered to him, "I should very much like to feel that hurt again. But slower and more gently this time."

Arthur noted the woman smelled floral, whereas the queen had a spicy, exotic scent. Thinking of the queen made his passion less, and Drea, sensing his preoccupation, took his cock in her hand. He exhaled sharply in surprise, and she pulled back.

"I'm sorry, I should have asked," Drea apologized. "Do you want me to stop?"

Arthur took her hand and placed it back on his hardness. "No."

She stroked him gently and carefully, and he moaned with approval. But once again, his mind began to wander, and Drea could tell.

"Arthur, I have an idea. Maybe tell yourself, 'I'm a powerful king, and I will claim my mistress!' As if you're in a play of sorts! It can't hurt," she suggested with a small shrug.

He couldn't help but laugh. "I like that idea." Testing the notion, he repeated, "I am a powerful king!"

Drea played along. "You are, Your Highness. And your loyal subject and mistress would very much like it if you took her to the bed and ravished her."

Thinking this whole concept might just work, Arthur lifted Drea into his arms while she screamed playfully, and deposited her on the bed. He hovered above her for a moment, considering his next move. He realized he hadn't so much at touched her breast, so he started there. He cupped them and caressed them, which made his own excitement grow.

"Oh, that is so good, my king," Drea said, still playing along. "What would you have me do?

"Just let me thank you for being my loyal subject and mistress."

Arthur spent a good deal of time licking and sucking Drea's now-hard nipples. He then ran his hands up and down her body, and kissed his way from her breasts downward, wanting very suddenly and desperately to part her folds and taste her. The king urged her legs open, moved her knees up high, and first touched her center with his fingers as she moaned beneath his touch. Then, Arthur used his tongue, frantically licking the swollen and wet core. She tasted sweet and intoxicating, and Arthur nearly forgot that he was king as she called out his name with a wild scream, her orgasm pulsing against his tongue.

"Dear God, your queen is a lucky woman," Drea panted.

It took only that one mention of Guinevere to deflate Arthur's desire completely. Realizing what she had done, before he slipped any further into doubt or distraction, Drea urged Arthur onto his back, placed herself between his knees and took his cock into her mouth, sucking and licking forcefully. The king, unable to resist these heavenly sensations, grew rigid again. After a few minutes of this activity, Arthur knew his release would come soon.

"Wait, wait," Arthur warned, as he gently nudged Drea off of him.

"Would you come inside of me then, Your Highness?"

Arthur thought that was one of the most erotic things he'd ever heard. "I will," he said, as he pushed Drea onto her back and entered her, finding her slick and ready. "But after you come again."

Arthur made every effort to focus on the new and exciting feelings he was experiencing at that very moment, and tried not to think of his wife. Drea was so sweet and willing, genuinely a kind, responsive, arousing woman. Once again, Arthur feared he'd lose his erection due to his wandering thoughts, until he felt Drea's finger nails bite into his shoulders. She squirmed beneath him enthusiastically.

With each and every thrust, Drea groaned with passion, until finally she cried out, "My king, dear God!" wrapping her legs around his waist tightly, pulling his body even closer to hers, allowing her orgasm to claim her.

That's all it took to finally send Arthur over the edge, nearly at the same moment as the woman in his bed.

He was relieved, in more ways than one. Once he'd caught his breath and disentangled himself from Drea's limbs, he held her face, kissed her cheek, and said, "Thank you. For your kindness, your patience. Everything."

She responded with, "It was my pleasure, Arthur, truly."

"I also wanted to tell you, I hope you're not offended I didn't kiss you on the mouth. I thought maybe it was best to leave that act for my wife alone. I hope you can understand."

"I do understand and I assumed as much. It's all right."

They both lay under the covers quietly for a time. Arthur absently twirled a lock of Drea's long auburn hair around his finger. While they rested together, the king said, "I do remember one other word in Latin."

"Oh?" commented Drea. "And what's that?"

Arthur's eyes roamed her body with admiration once again as he said, "_Decorus_. It means 'beautiful.'"

Drea was truly touched by the king's sincere compliment. But she was a little surprised when he finally asked softly, "Can I have you again? Now?"

"Yes," she whispered.

They made love again, and Arthur was both eager and attentive. Yet thoughts of his queen were never far from his mind.

Drea didn't know exactly how much time has passed, but she knew she wanted to get home to her son soon. That, and she was feeling more emotional than she'd expected, and didn't want to cry in front of the king, which was silly, after they'd shared such an intimate experience.

"I have to take my leave now. Shall we schedule our next and final meeting?"

Strangely, Arthur felt disappointed at the thought of being close to her only one more time, but tried to sound cheerful as he said, "Yes, that's a good idea. Can you meet me again the night after tomorrow?"

"I can."

He kissed her cheek as they both rose from the bed and began to dress.

"I'll see you then, Drea."

"And one last thing," she said. "If the queen would like to meet with me privately, so I can put her mind at ease, I would be happy to do so."

"Do you really think that's a good idea?" Arthur questioned.

"I don't know, but I wanted to extend the offer. Good night, Arthur."

XXXX

Guinevere was in her private chambers, and Arthur tried to call on her after his time with Drea. However, given the recent events, his wife felt unable to see him right away. Christiane met Arthur at the door.

The very-pregnant Christiane said, "Forgive me, my lord, but Guinevere has expressed she'd like to spend the remainder of the night in her room. Alone."

"I don't understand! She wanted this! And now she won't receive me? This is unacceptable," hollered Arthur.

Christiane cringed slightly at his volume, and Arthur immediately felt sorry for upsetting a woman who was so obviously pregnant and was simply trying to comfort his queen. "I'm sorry for yelling," he apologized.

"I understand, sire. Though I'd hope you don't force her to receive you tonight. This has been more difficult on her than she expected," said Christiane sympathetically.

Arthur recalled how he felt after Gwen's time with Gwaine. "All right. Will you please tell her I love her, and I would very much like to see her tomorrow?"

Christiane nodded, and Arthur returned to his chambers and spent the remainder of the night in bed alone, thoughts and dreams of both his wife and Drea haunting him until dawn.

The next morning, the queen still had not returned to their shared chambers, and Arthur was becoming increasingly nervous, so he went to call on his wife again. He knocked on her private chamber door and tried to open it, but it was bolted fast.

"Gwen, will you please talk to me?" the king asked through the door.

Guinevere unbolted the door and opened it a crack. Arthur noted she looked completely exhausted, as if she hadn't slept for a moment the previous night. She told her husband, "Please, Arthur, I just need another day before I see you. Try to understand."

He muscled his way into the chamber and forced a rough kiss onto his wife's mouth. "Fine. Tomorrow, then." As he turned to leave, he vowed, "I love you, Guinevere, and I'll not lose you over this. If at any point you change your mind about this whole thing, you need only say the word."

"Arthur, wait," Guinevere said. "When are you to see her again?"

Facing away from his wife, Arthur stared at his boots. "Tomorrow night."

"Then I can see you in two days' time. Please respect my wishes, will you?"

"Fine, Guinevere," the king sighed heavily. "But I also want you to know that she, Drea, said she's willing to meet you at any time to put your mind at ease. If that would help you, please go see her."

With that, Arthur departed.

XXXX

The king spent the next day-and-a-half tending to his duties as usual – council meetings, training sessions, hearing complaints and requests from his subjects, and so forth. Typically a master at hiding his disquiet, nearly everyone could tell Arthur was exhausted and unhappy, but no one said a word. He missed Guinevere, yet looked forward to his final time with Drea that evening, which made him feel a combination of lonely, sad, conflicted, and upset. The king admonished himself for believing he could bed another woman and simply put the experience from his mind and not be affected by it. Later, Gwaine and Percival stopped by the king's chambers for a chat, but in his mood, Arthur refused to see anyone.

Arthur frittered away the time until Drea arrived, poking at the fire in the guest chamber, looking at books and not reading them, and thinking about how this current situation could not possibly end well.

Lost in his thoughts, Arthur heard the light tap on the door, and Drea entered, having been escorted by Ulrich once again.

In a flash of inspiration, before Drea had time to remove her cloak, Arthur said, "Wait one moment; don't move!" He began to scramble around the room, grabbing blankets, his wineskin, a small, glowing lantern, and his bag. Taking her hand, Arthur led her out into the corridor.

As the king and Drea exited the chamber, Ulrich inquired where they were going, as he was charged with providing security for the king. Arthur responded that they were going for a ride, and Ulrich pleaded with the king to wait for him.

"Sire, I'm to provide your security tonight. Leon will have my head if I don't follow you," the young knight begged the king.

"Ulrich, I don't need your help," argued Arthur, "but I thank you. I'm the king, and I can handle my own security for a few hours. That's an order."

As Arthur rushed from the castle with Drea, Ulrich sought out Percival, not knowing whom else to ask for help. He knew the knight was probably sleeping, but he knocked on his door anyway. A sleepy-looking and shirtless Percival answered, took one look at Ulrich and said, "It's never a good thing when you show up at my chambers at this hour."

Ulrich quickly explained about the king riding off into the night with Drea, unescorted.

"Is he mad?" Percival commented as he stepped back into his room for a brief moment to collect a tunic and his boots. "This is just great. Do you have any idea where he might be going?"

Ulrich confessed, "I don't."

"I hate to do this," Percival said as he carefully closed his chamber door, taking care not to rouse his sleeping wife, and joining Ulrich in the corridor, "but we're going to have to ask Merlin for help. He told me once after Camlann that he can scry[1], not very well, but we may be able to get some idea of where Arthur's gone and if he's safe."

Hastily, the men left for Merlin's chambers, hoping the young warlock was able, and willing, to assist them.

While Percival and Ulrich worried about their king, Arthur and Drea took a single horse to Arthur's favorite place in the woods, one where he went on the rare occasions he could get away by himself. The peaceful clearing near a small waterfall was a few miles away from the castle. He always found the sound of the water soothing, and the overall feel of the place was refreshing and comforting, the smell of water and greens prominent. One had to ride a little ways through overgrown paths and around an old stone wall to access the place, making it a very secluded and rarely-used location.

"It's simply enchanting, Arthur. I've never been here before," Drea observed of the secluded spot once they'd arrived at their destination.

Arthur helped her down from the horse and placed some blankets upon the forest floor next to the lantern. Thankfully, spring had appeared early this year, and while it was chilly, it wasn't freezing. Drea and Arthur sat on the wool blanket in amiable quiet for a time, admiring the slow-moving waterfall in the bright silver moonlight.

The king broke the silence with, "Drea, I wanted to thank you for all you've done. I've truly enjoyed our time together, and if I may be honest, I'll miss it. You're going to make a fine wife again one day, hopefully soon." Arthur paused a moment. "Why did you not remarry?"

"The first year I was a widow, I was pregnant and heartbroken," Drea explained. "During the next years, I focused on raising Wallace and providing for him. I didn't really think I had a place in my heart for another man, but now, I may."

With a very slight twinge of jealousy, the king said, "Any man would be lucky to have you."

"First, let me focus on carrying your healthy child!" she responded, elbowing Arthur in the ribs playfully.

"About that. Will you send me word immediately when, or if, it happens? And by when do you think you'll know? I realize it's not an exact science…" His words trailed off. The king imagined Drea growing large with his child, and felt a sense of pride, knowing she'd be more beautiful than ever carrying his baby. And he instantly felt shame, reminding himself he should have those feelings about his queen, and not Drea.

Taking Arthur's hand, sensing his uneasiness, Drea noted, "I should know it about three weeks' time."

The two spoke a bit longer about how they would miss one another, and Arthur expressed he regretted he would not be able to visit Drea or spend significant time with her again. But they both knew the king needed to work on repairing his marriage to Guinevere, as she held his heart like no other.

"We should get to work, then," Drea said with humor, flopping back onto the blanket, encouraging the king to join her.

Arthur undid his trousers and lowered them, then hiked-up Drea's skirt and lowered her undergarments with care. He pulled an extra blanket over them so she wouldn't get chilled, and made love to his companion slowly and tenderly, drawing it out as much as possible. Though he promised himself he wouldn't kiss her on the lips, in their last moments of passion together, he pressed his lips against hers, and she threw her arms around his neck enthusiastically.

While Drea and Arthur joined their bodies one last time, Ulrich and Percival were in the process of frantically explaining to Merlin how Arthur had ridden off into the forest without an escort, and they were very worried.

Offering the anxious knights seats in his chamber while yawning and rubbing his sleepy eyes, Merlin said, "I can scry; it's not a problem. Let me just grab my mirror."

The two knights didn't know what he was talking about regarding a mirror, so they simply sat and waited, trusting Merlin knew what he was doing. The sorcerer returned with a round, black piece of glass the size of a dinner plate. It was framed in silver with what appeared to be ancient symbols etched into the precious metal. Merlin took a seat and held the glass at arm's length, concentrating on it intently for a minute or two while Percival and Ulrich looked on, fascinated. Merlin's eyes then flashed gold for a second, and he looked up, ears burning red.

"What did you see?" Percival asked anxiously.

"Um, Arthur's fine. Drea's fine. All's fine," Merlin said while shifting uncomfortably and avoiding Ulrich and Percival's eyes.

"Where are they? What are they doing?" Ulrich asked.

"They're, uh, in the woods in a safe place," said Merlin vaguely.

Percival and Ulrich demanded more information. Merlin finally relented and explained, "I saw Arthur having sex by the water, all right? And I'd like to scrub that image from my brain!"

Ulrich shrugged. "At least he's not hurt."

The two knights had to beg Merlin to scry once again about half an hour later, as they wanted to make sure their king was on his way home safely. After much complaining and arguing, Merlin confirmed that Arthur had brought Drea back to her cottage and was on the way back to the castle.

Now, they all waited for the inevitable drama.

* * *

><p>[10] Scrying is a form of divination. It refers to the practice of looking into a reflective surface such as a mirror, crystal ball, or bowlbody of water in order to see visions and/or tell the future.


	22. Chapter 22 News and the Drama

**A/N - It was a challenge to write chapter twenty one. I absolutely love Arthur, and it was tough for me to write about his affection for another woman, even though the situation was somewhat thrust upon him. I wanted to make it clear he still loves his precious Guinevere, but developed a strong connection to Drea. Also, I know I tend to write about many of the male characters feeling nervous and unsure around women, especially when it comes to intimacy. I often read that men stride into rooms, totally confident, and just take over. I want to show another side!**

**During chapter twenty two, Guinevere shares some important news with the king. As does Drea. Arthur and Drea have a bit of a spat. Gwaine meets Drea for the first time. Relationships take an interesting turn here. And don't worry, we'll see more Christiane and Percival in the next chapter. **

**And welcome to tinku01 and Dolphinray! I am so grateful that you have "favorited" and/or "followed" my story. **

**Lastly, thank you so much for being such loyal readers. Onward!**

Chapter 22 – News and the Drama

During the next week, the relationship between the king and queen was very obviously strained.

Arthur was irritated that Guinevere could scarcely meet his eyes, let alone talk to him, and Gwen was upset that Arthur couldn't seem to understand how jealous she felt, when Arthur had experienced the same feelings of overwhelming jealousy himself. The king was terrified his marriage was unraveling, and worried that Drea's potential pregnancy would only make matters worse.

Guinevere spent each evening in her private chambers, avoiding the king entirely. Precisely seven nights after the last time Arthur had seen Drea, he concluded he'd had enough of this nonsense. Hadn't he and his wife selected this course of action together? Wasn't she the one who'd demanded a baby? Why was she punishing him now? Did she understand his heart still burned with an all-consuming jealousy over the time she'd spent with Gwaine?

The frustrated king marched to Gwen's chambers and demanded entry. He loved his queen and he was not leaving until things between them were resolved. He didn't care if they had to lock themselves in the room for a month!

Arthur knocked on the chamber door and asked politely to be let in, but Guinevere refused. The king finally blew up. "Damn it, woman, open this door or I promise you I will kick the fucking thing in! Do not test me!"

Guinevere was frightened for a moment. The king never, ever called her "woman," never said "fuck," and certainly never threatened to break down a door in her presence. But Guinevere feeling stubborn and angry, refused, only to be met by the sounds of splintering wood and her husband standing in her presence, purple-faced with frustration.

Three castle guards rushed in at the commotion, and Arthur shouted, "Leave us!"

Normally, the guards listened to Arthur's every command immediately, but in this case, they were slightly worried for the queen's safety and looked to her for approval.

"You may go," she confirmed.

Arthur jammed the door back in place as best he could and managed to bolt it. He stormed up to Guinevere and grabbed her roughly by the upper arms, unknowingly digging his fingers into his queen's soft skin. Eyes darkening with anger, he shouted, "We're not going to leave this room until we've sorted things out. You will not continue to shut me out…I can't stand it any longer. I don't care if we sit here for a month; so be it!"

Guinevere began to cry. "This was all just a terrible, horrible mistake, and I don't know how to fix it!"

Arthur suddenly felt bad for being so furious. After all, he wasn't one to fly into a rage, but during the last many weeks, he realized this was the second door he'd kicked open in a fit of fury. He released Gwen's arms and instead hugged her gently.

"I know," Arthur said as he held his precious wife closely. "We've made quite a mess of things. But we always turned toward each other instead of away during times of trouble. Why change that now? It doesn't seem to be working."

The queen nodded in agreement, then said, "I have to ask you a question, and I need to know the honest answer. But I warn you, your truthful answer may make me vomit, so be prepared."

"Okay, I'll answer honestly and I'm listening."

"Do you love her?" asked Gwen as she trembled in the king's arms, sobbing.

Momentarily perplexed, Arthur asked, "Do I love whom?"

"Don't make me say it!"

"Oh, God, no!" Arthur insisted, finally understanding his queen's question. "If you want to know the truth, I could barely, uh, perform at first. All I could think of was you. Drea is a lovely woman, but no one could ever hold my heart but you."

Guinevere continued to sob hysterically as she held onto Arthur. "I've been afraid you enjoyed it so much you'd never want me again. Or, you'd insist upon keeping her on as your mistress."

Arthur stroked Gwen's hair as she rested her head against his chest. "You're the only woman I've ever loved, Gwen. And that will never change." He then emphasized, "And I don't care what the circumstances are, we are never doing anything like this again."

The king wiped the tears from his queen's face and said, "Please, let me have you now. I beg you. I've missed you."

Guinevere kissed her husband with all of the warmth and tenderness she knew how. Clothing disappeared hastily and the couple found themselves in bed, a jumble of arms and legs. Arthur was relieved to be in his beautiful wife's warm embrace once again.

"I plan to have you as my own tonight," Arthur warned. "To be touched by no other man ever again. Only me," he said fiercely, as he entered her without warning, and pounded into her almost savagely, over and over.

And Guinevere loved it. She could feel his passion in every aggressive thrust, and as she came with an ear-splitting scream, raking her nails down Arthur's chest, drawing blood. He didn't care in the slightest and immediately thereafter, found his own sweet release.

XXXX

During the next month, the castle residents and staff began to feel spring fever. It had been a particularly long and harsh winter, and the slightly-warmer temperatures and first fragrant and colorful blossoms of the season put everyone in a more positive mood, including the king and queen. They'd worked hard during the last several weeks to find their way back to one another, spending time alone, rekindling their passion for one another, and talking honestly about the time they'd spent with Gwaine and Drea. Though there were moments of extreme resentment, some arguments, and many tears, they were committed to making their marriage and partnership work.

On a bright spring morning, Guinevere asked Arthur to meet her for lunch later that day in their chambers, as she knew his schedule happened to be a fairly light one. He thought this was a pleasant surprise and agreed, hoping lunch would lead to something more afterward. The king arrived on time, hungry for both lunch and his wife. He devoured his stuffed trout over roast vegetables, eager to coax Guinevere into bed.

The king was just about to declare this was the perfect afternoon to engage in some "marital activity," but Guinevere interrupted with, "I have some news for you. Some very significant news, in fact."

Arthur had been so wrapped-up in his meal and plans to seduce his queen that he hadn't noticed she was trembling with edginess. His face fell, and he thought for a moment she was about to announce that she was leaving him.

"I went to see the midwife this morning," Guinevere continued.

"Oh? Are you having some…women problems?" asked Arthur, concerned.

"Not a problem, exactly." Gwen wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt as Arthur's heart pounded in his chest, worried she was about to relay some horrible news, but was simply trying to soften the blow. "I don't know how else to say this, so I'll just come right out with it. Arthur, I'm pregnant."

It took an instant for the news to sink in. Arthur did some very rapid calculations in his head. She'd been with Gwaine, and then had her courses a couple of weeks later. That meant this child couldn't be Gwaine's; it had to be the king's.

When Arthur finally felt steady enough to rise, he stood so fast and moved to the queen so swiftly that he knocked over the wine jug, sending it clattering to the floor, along with several dishes and cups. But he didn't care. He also didn't care that he was crying like a little girl. Arthur grabbed his wife and hugged her fiercely, then held her at arm's length to examine her abdomen, which to him, still looked the same as always.

"My God, I can't believe it. After all this time? This is a miracle!" the king shouted. "I'm so happy, Gwen. Are you feeling all right? And you're certain?"

"Yes, I feel fine and I'm certain. It's rather early on though, so we shouldn't announce anything for several more weeks."

"Of course, yes, whatever you think is best. Ha. Ha! This is incredible!"

They stood locked in a tight embrace, the happiest they'd been in such a long time. Yet once again, that joy was to be put to the test.

XXXX

Arthur spent the next two days looking as if he were floating on a cloud. The knights, especially the ones to whom he was close, knew something odd was happening with their king when he allowed them to break from their training session early. Often, Arthur forced his men to keep working until they were panting and ready to collapse. But since he didn't seem to want to share any news, they simply enjoyed the extra time to themselves.

As Arthur knew Guinevere was having an audience with some of the townspeople in the council chamber, he decided to return to his quarters for a good, long, soak in the tub, sore as he was. Sometimes, he felt a deep ache in his bones, and he knew it was from the dark magic that still coursed through him, though he told no one. The moment he'd lowered his body into the warm water and had begun to relax, Ulrich knocked on the door, claiming he had an urgent letter in his possession.

Arthur told Ulrich to enter, and accepted the wax-sealed note. He opened it and read the few words on the page. As he read, all color drained from the king's face, and he leapt from the tub in a panic.

Surprised by the king's reaction to the letter, Ulrich asked, "My lord, what is it?"

Unable to speak, he simply handed the letter to Ulrich.

_My King,_

_ Yes, it has happened, and I have had it confirmed._

_ Your Loyal Subject, D_

"Sire, this is good news, is it not?" Ulrich questioned. "Drea's with child."

Arthur dried himself off haphazardly and began to struggle into his clothing.

"Actually, this isn't good news right now. I have to share something with you that Guinevere and I weren't ready to announce yet. The queen is pregnant. With my child," he explained.

"Oh. _Oh_." Ulrich said, understanding the potential negative ramifications of such news. "What are you going to do?"

"I have absolutely no idea," Arthur admitted. "But first, I'm going to see the queen. No more secrets, hiding, or obscuring the truth. I have no idea how she'll react, but imagine it'll be less than favorable, to put it mildly."

Arthur dressed rapidly and arrived in the council chamber just as Guinevere finished up her meeting. He instructed the guard that they were not to be disturbed. Once the last subject had departed, Arthur sat down next to the queen with a half-smile on his face.

"Oh, what is it, Arthur? I can see something's really troubling you," said Guinevere.

He glanced up at her nervously, and found himself unable to choose the right words, so he simply handed her the letter. Other than the tears collecting in her eyes, which eventually spilled, she seemed quite calm.

"Ah. I expected as much," she said.

"After you told me about your pregnancy, I'd all but forgotten about our arrangement, which was foolish of me."

"You'll need to go see her, Arthur," Guinevere insisted. "And you'll need to tell her what's happened and let her decide what she wants to do. Though I don't know what _we're_ going to do, because obviously, there's no way we can make people believe this child is ours also. If I went away and returned with two children, that would just be too incredible."

"I know," the king agreed. "Are you sure you're comfortable with me seeing her, alone?"

The queen reached out and took her husband's hand. "I trust you, Arthur. And if you could ask her if she'll see me separately, I would like to do so, if she's willing."

"She'd already said she would receive you at any time, so I'm certain that won't be a problem. Do you mind if I leave now?"

Solemnly, Guinevere offered, "I think the sooner, the better."

Arthur left for Drea's cottage immediately. She saw Arthur approaching and met him at the door with a huge smile on her face. His heart sank. He knew she was going to be unhappy with the news.

"My lord, you received my letter, I take it?" she asked as she ushered him inside, still smiling.

"I did," he said as steadily as possible.

Right away, her smile fell and she knew something was amiss. This had been the goal, after all, a pregnancy, and the king looked utterly wounded.

"I see you're unhappy," she commented carefully.

"Drea, the queen just informed me few days ago that she, too, is with child."

Drea shook her head in disbelief as she stood in the middle of the room. "No. No, she must be mistaken! Women can miss their courses for a variety of different reasons…and after over three years...This is true? Honestly?" asked Drea, her voice full of pain.

"It is. I came here because I'd like it if you told me what you want. Whatever it is, I'll support it. We can still send you to our cottage in the North during the pregnancy, and then the queen and I can raise the child as my…ward." Arthur didn't want to say "bastard," as he would never view their child in that way. "Or, you can raise the child yourself, with my support, of course. Though you needn't ever reveal me as the father. Unless you want to."

Drea stood there stony-faced, impassive, but she rapidly turned to anger. "You know what I think? I think I've been deceived! Perhaps this was just a plot to lure another woman into your bed." She didn't really believe her declaration, but she was too stunned and hurt to recant those words.

"What? No, please don't say that," Arthur said, stepping slightly closer to Drea. "You mentioned yourself it's almost unthinkable that the queen finally got pregnant, now, after three years. I would never deceive you. This is totally unexpected. Please, Drea, I care about you and this child."

Arthur tried to touch her arm, but Drea snatched it away angrily. She certainly wasn't a violent woman, but a part of her felt like punching the king straight in the face. And if the man touched her again, she was worried she might lash out, hurt and angry as she was.

"I know you're the king, but at this moment, I don't care. Please, just get away from me. I need a few days to think."

"Drea – "

"Get out. Right now, damn it!" the woman shouted as she dashed for the front door and flung it wide open, gesturing for the king to leave.

Arthur complied with her wishes and returned to the castle immediately. He informed his wife that Drea was hurt, angry, dismissed him from her home, and told him she needed a few days to think.

"I feel terrible for her, Arthur. She must feel so unhappy and alone. I'll visit her in a few days myself."

Arthur thought it was a horrible idea, as he wondered how Drea would react to seeing Guinevere, but he said nothing.

Needless to say, the events caused some extra tension around the castle for the next few days. Arthur was snappish and Guinevere subdued. Gwen resolved to visit Drea that day, hoping that somehow, she could help make things right again.

Guinevere went to Drea's home unescorted. She knocked on the door several times, yet there was no answer. Finally, Wallace appeared in the doorway.

He gasped. "Your Highness!" he said with a deep bow. The boy had only seen the queen at a distance, but having her appear at his home, even while she was dressed casually, was quite shocking.

Guinevere thought he was adorable. "Why, hello young man. Is your mother home?"

"She is, my lady. But she's unwell," the little boy answered seriously.

"Unwell?" Guinevere asked with concern. "May I come in and see her?"

"I think so, my lady. Can you wait one moment while I ask?"

"Of course."

A minute later, Drea came to the door, pale-looking and exhausted, gripping the door frame to steady herself. Guinevere reached out to help her.

"Your Highness, this is very embarrassing. I'm, uh, not feeling well..." Drea sat suddenly and clumsily on the wooden floor and wept.

Entering the cottage quickly and helping Drea into a chair, the queen insisted, "Oh, please, call me Gwen."

Wallace wandered out into the garden with his wooden sword, sensing his mother needed some time alone with the queen.

"Drea, what's happened?" asked Guinevere with concern as she took a seat right next to the ailing woman. "Do you need Mary?"

"No," wept Drea. "There's no need any longer. I miscarried early this morning."

Drea began to sob in earnest and Gwen's heart broke for her. As a pregnant woman, the queen felt terrible for Drea. Guinevere leaned forward in her chair and embraced the crying woman.

"I'm sorry," Drea said, sniffling and wiping at her eyes with her sleeve while the queen continued to hold her. "I didn't think I'd be this upset. And you must hate me anyway."

"No, no," said Gwen in a soothing voice, offering the woman a handkerchief. "Terribly jealous, but I never hated you."

"The king loves you so much," Drea continued. "I hope I can find a husband one day that loves me the way he loves you." She confessed, "He treated me very kindly, but he made it clear you owned his heart. I want to make sure you know that."

"You're a good woman. You were only trying to help and I'm sorry you were caught up in all of this," said Guinevere.

The queen gently let go of Drea and stood. "It would make me feel better to have Mary give you a quick check. I'll return with her shortly."

Guinevere returned to Drea's cottage a short time later with both Mary and Alis. The midwife and acolyte examined Drea while the queen waited outside and played a game of "damsel in distress" in the garden with young Wallace.

"You know, Your Highness, I'm going to be one of King Arthur's knights in thirteen years, once I've turned seventeen," the boy declared. "I'll be honorable and noble and fair and strong!"

"I think you'll make a fine knight, Wallace," the queen said kindly with a light chuckle. "Do you mind waiting out here for a bit while I check on your mother?"

"Not at all, my lady. But may I say one more thing?" Guinevere nodded. "My mother's the best mother in the whole kingdom."

The queen ruffled his already-messy hair and went indoors. She chatted with Mary and Alis briefly before they took their leave, then began to make Drea a cup of herbal tea.

As she finished preparing the hot beverage, Guinevere said, "I'd like to see you again, if that's all right."

Drea inquired, "But, why?"

"I just...I feel a connection to you. I can't explain it. Would you be willing to see me again?"

"I would."

"Good. That's settled, then." The queen handed Drea the mug of tea and gathered herself to leave. Before walking outside, Guinevere commented, "Oh, and I noticed your roof needs a bit of repair. I'll send one of our knights down to fix it. Gwaine's very handy and I'm sure he wouldn't mind. And I'll have him bring down your horse, too."

Drea looked confused. "My horse? I don't have a horse."

"You will soon." The queen offered with a slight smile.

When Guinevere returned to the castle, she found Arthur pacing in the council room.

"Well?" he asked nervously. He'd concocted a variety of unpleasant scenarios in his mind of what might have transpired between his wife and Drea, most of which included shouting, hair-pulling, and slapping.

"Have a seat, Arthur," Guinevere requested. "You're making me tense."

She went on to describe their meeting in detail. The king was sad to hear that Drea had miscarried, but kept his emotions in check, as he didn't want to upset his wife with an overt display of unhappiness. He wondered if the baby would have favored his own light coloring, or his mother's auburn hair. It made his heart sore to think of it.

The queen noticed Arthur was distracted, and questioned, "Arthur, are you listening?"

"Yes, of course I am. I think it's a good idea to send Gwaine down to help. And choose whatever horse you think best. Also," Arthur started delicately, "she needs to be…provided for, as promised. It's not her fault this happened. Though I'm certain she'll resist."

"I agree," said Guinevere, much to Arthur's relief. "I'm to see her again soon, and I'll see what I can do to convince her."

Arthur straightened in his seat. "See her again? What do you mean?"

"I like her, Arthur. And she's going through a difficult time and can use all of the friends she can get." The queen stood and said, "I'll see you for supper."

Arthur's wife never ceased to amaze him.

XXXX

While Gwaine had planned on making a quick stop at the tavern that spring afternoon, instead, he found himself instructed by the queen to go to Drea's house to deliver a horse and fix the woman's roof. He knew of Drea; it was hard not to with all of the goings-on of late, but he'd only seen the back of her cloak as she was ushered into the castle at night. Now, he was expected to give up his afternoon and attend to this woman. Gwaine wasn't happy about it, but the queen was insistent. He figured he'd get the work done fast and _then_ stop at the tavern for a flagon of ale. Perhaps two.

Gwaine arrived at Drea's cottage on the dappled-grey gelding that was to be this woman's new horse. He found Drea outside in the garden with her son. She had her back to the knight and appeared to be wrestling with some persistent weeds as her boy zipped around her energetically, wielding a wooden sword. Gwaine chuckled at the sight of the little boy. It reminded him of how he acted at the same age. The child even looked a bit like Gwaine had with the same dark, shaggy hair and mischievous air about him.

Wallace saw Gwaine and approached the man. "Sir Gwaine, a legend!" He bowed. "It's an honor to meet you! I'm Wallace, future knight of Camelot."

Gwaine couldn't help but laugh at the young boy; he was so spirited. "Is that so?" the knight chuckled as he dismounted. "Do you mind if I put this horse in your stable? It's for you and your mother."

"It is?" the little boy asked excitedly. "Then I'm going to ride it as soon as I can. I say I'm old enough, but Mother says no."

"I have a little work to do on your roof, but if your mother approves, I'll take you out for a ride when I'm done." Suddenly, Gwaine forgot all about the tavern thanks to this little boy's infectious enthusiasm.

Drea finally realized her son was engaged in conversation with someone. She disentangled herself from the weeds, rounded the corner, and stood in front of Gwaine. She was dirty and sweaty, her auburn hair sticking to her face, and looked as if she could use some rest, owing to the slight dark shadows beneath her eyes. But Gwaine had never seen anyone or anything more beautiful and enchanting. For the first time he could recall, he was speechless.

Drea continued to look at the knight questioningly. "Yes?" she asked impatiently, wiping her dirt-caked hands on her apron. "Can I help you?"

Snapped out of his silence, Gwaine said, "Oh, yes, I'm sorry. I just met your son and explained this horse is for you, and I'm here to do some repair on your roof. As per the queen's instruction."

Drea wanted to tell him to take the damn horse and leave. But the creature was so beautiful. The man standing before her wasn't too bad, either, but that was of no consequence to her at the moment. She thought to herself, _I've suffered enough. Why not accept this fine horse and let this knight fix my roof. What can it hurt?_

"All right, then. Suit yourself," she said stiffly. "I'll bring the horse to the stable myself. I have some feed and hay."

Drea took the horse's reigns as the knight stated, "I'm Gwaine."

"Yes, I know," she indicated with some suspicion. "Everyone knows who you are."

"Whatever you've heard, they're lies. All lies. Most things, anyway," he offered with a playful wink.

He extended his hand, and Drea took it reluctantly. Their eyes met for a moment, and Gwaine saw some pain and sadness in hers. And out of nowhere, the man was smitten; this never happened to him. Gwaine liked women, surely, and had spent time with a good number of them. But this beauty made his heart ache with wanting something more, and this sensation was completely foreign to him.

After releasing Drea's hand, Gwaine said quickly, "After my work's done, I told your boy I'd take him out for a quick ride, if that's okay with you."

Drea narrowed her eyes slightly. "Can I trust you to be very careful with him?"

"If you can't trust a knight of Camelot, who can you trust?"

"Good point," she acquiesced. "Fine, Sir Gwaine. If you need anything, I'll be in the garden." Drea stalked off with the horse.

"Just Gwaine!" he called after her, but she didn't turn.

The work on the roof went rather quickly and easily; only a small section of thatch needed to be replaced, as the remainder of the roof was sound and water-tight. As soon as the work was complete, Gwaine checked on the horse briefly, took a drink of water from the nearby well, and approached Drea in her garden, confirming it was all right to take Wallace out for a ride.

The knight and the little boy had a great time, Wallace peppering Gwaine with dozens of questions about life as a knight as they rode on a well-traveled trail in the woods.

The two returned about an hour later, and as they came to a halt in front of the house, Gwaine asked Wallace, "Can I come back soon to teach you some more techniques with that fine wooden sword of yours?"

"Would you?" Wallace asked excitedly. "Yes! Tomorrow?"

Gwaine laughed once again at his zeal. "Sure. Tomorrow evening, if your mother approves."

Wallace deflated slightly. "Mum's been a little sad the last few days. I heard her crying last night." Then he brightened suddenly. "Maybe you could take her for a ride on the horse! That would make her feel better."

"Good idea, young man. I'll ask," Gwaine said as he helped the boy dismount and tied up the horse.

Wallace dashed into the cottage and hugged his mother the moment he entered, chattering excitedly about his ride with a "real knight." Gwaine waited patiently at the doorway until Wallace swiped a small apple fritter from the dining table and raced back outside into the garden.

Still standing at the threshold, Gwaine asked Drea, "Would you like to take a ride with me? Just a quick one."

"No," she asserted brusquely, taking a seat at her weaving stool. "I have a lot to do around here," said Drea, waving her hand toward the interior of her home vaguely. When she noticed that Gwaine seemed a little discouraged, she confided, "I'm sorry. It's not your fault. I haven't been myself lately. I realize you're only trying to be nice."

Accepting her explanation, Gwaine said, "I asked Wallace if I could stop by tomorrow evening after supper. Just to teach him a little sword fighting…a few blocks and such. Nothing dangerous. Would that be all right?"

"I suppose it would," Drea answered as she fiddled absently with her tapestry.

The knight smiled gently, bowed, and turned to leave. As he began to walk away, Drea called out, "And Gwaine? Thank you."

He turned to look at her and wave goodbye, and she smiled back at him radiantly.

_Mother of mercy,_ Gwaine thought to himself as he headed for the castle, bypassing the tavern completely.


	23. Chapter 23 The Joust

**A/N - In chapter twenty two, we learned that the queen is pregnant. Hooray! But I feel sad for Drea's loss. And is something going to happen between Drea and Gwaine? He's certainly smitten. **

**A very significant event occurs involving a main character during chapter twenty three, one which may change the course of the story. Or not :) You'll have to read to find out. There will be a tournament with a joust. That's all I have to say!**

**And I can't believe you're still reading. Thank you, so, so much. ****AND hello to fantasyluver714, who "favorited" my story. :)**

Chapter 23 – The Joust

Percival felt his wife stir slightly on a cloudless and warm summer morning. It was hard for him to believe they'd been married nearly a year! Yet every day, he found himself as desperately in love with his wife as the day before. Due to deliver their baby in a couple of short weeks, Christiane's belly had swollen to the size of a very large pumpkin, and looked equally as heavy and awkward to carry around. Percival had taken to asking, "How's the pumpkin today?" The thought of that made him smile as he wrapped his arms around his beautiful wife tightly.

"Good morning, handsome," Christiane said to her husband, her voice slightly raspy from sleep. "Are you ready for the tournament today?"

"Sure, why not?"

Percival had opted out of the sword contest and melee; he wanted to make sure he was in relatively decent shape just in case Christiane had their baby a little early. Normally, he performed quite well in the joust, so he wasn't overly-concerned with injury.

"And would you care to use your big lance on me this morning, Sir Knight?" Christiane inquired suggestively.

Percival couldn't stop himself from grinning at this. His wife's appetite for sex was insatiable lately! But he reminded himself it was important to enjoy these moments, as after their child was born, Christiane would need time to heal, and would probably be exhausted from caring for a newborn.

Both lying on their sides, Christiane's back to Percival, she felt his erection press against her backside. He kicked off his drawers and reached under her thin, sleeveless nightdress, caressing the the soft, silky flesh between her legs gently at first, then with more force and greater speed; he softly squeezed her breast with his other hand. Christiane heaved herself up, shoved her husband flat onto his back, and lowered herself directly onto his hard cock. She moved up and down rapidly as Percival held her sides to steady her. Yet he did take a moment to unlace the front of her garment so he could see and touch those gorgeously full breasts of hers. Though Christiane's eyes were closed and she groaned with pleasure, Percival kept his eyes open. He found his pregnant wife more beautiful than ever. She reminded him of a ripened peach: plump, sweet, and utterly irresistible.

He whispered to her, "I want to hear you scream my name when you come."

She obliged. He'd wanted to hold on longer, but her enthusiastic cries sent him over the edge faster than he'd hoped.

Although Percival needed to get dressed and ready in order to meet his fellow knights on the training grounds before the tournament, he took a few extra minutes to hold Christiane in his arms. He looked forward to the arrival of their first child, and secretly hoped it was the first of many, but he also wanted to treasure these last days or weeks when it was just the two of them.

As Percival rose to prepare for the day, Christiane told him, "I'm glad you're only doing the joust, but still, it makes me so nervous. Couldn't Arthur think of some better way to celebrate the anniversary of the Camlann victory? Like a day-long feast? That sounds like a better idea to me. Safer, and there would be platters piled high with mouth-watering tarts. Especially cheese tarts!"

Christiane rubbed her large, pregnant belly, and sighed, obviously fantasizing about the taste of scrumptious, flaky pastries.

"Well, there'll be the feast after the tournament, so that should be some consolation," said Perceval with a chuckle.

He began to dress, and asked, "Are you sure you should be working in the healing tent with Gaius? You're so...ready to have the baby."

"Big, you were going to say. Huge. Massive," taunted Christiane.

"I wasn't going to say that!" Percival had learned the hard way to avoid using words such as "big," "heavy," or "large," but instead used the terms "breathtaking," "beautiful," and "gorgeous" freely.

"Yes you were. I'll rest, drink plenty, take breaks, and so forth. I know what I'm doing, you know."

Percival kissed his wife on the lips before he left. "Yes. Yes, you do. I'll see you on the field in a few hours. And see? I'm wearing your favor," he pointed out, gesturing toward the delicate white, lace kerchief tucked securely into the arm of his chainmail. "I'm sure it'll bring me luck."

XXXX

The tournament went off splendidly, with spectators and participants enjoying themselves tremendously (all but the injured participants). Christiane was fairly busy in the healing tent with Gaius. Fortunately, they hadn't seen any serious injuries yet, just a few lacerations and contusions, and hoped it would remain that way. And Percival was doing well at the joust. Christiane took breaks whenever it was his turn with the lance, watching him compete, marveling at his precision and skill.

Percival had unhorsed two opponents in a row and was having a very lucky day thus far. His next opponent was Gwaine. It was always good fun when two knights who were close friends competed in the joust against one another. Their comrades normally made friendly wagers, and the winner got bragging rights for a week, at least. Also, the loser had to buy the winner a flagon of ale, which was always a plus.

Christiane heard Gwaine and Percival being announced, and told Gaius she was taking a break to watch. She stood at the edge of the stands, waiting. Seeing her husband in full armor, she wondered how other men stopped themselves from weeping with fear at the sight of him in battle. He looked huge, terrifying, and utterly unbeatable. If they only knew how gentle and tender he was in bed, or how he referred to their baby as "pumpkin," the men might change their minds. She often forgot that Percival was a skilled warrior who could kill her, or nearly anyone else, in an instant. It seemed so improbable that her husband was capable of such deeds.

When the flag lowered, signaling the start of the joust, Christiane was nervous. Certainly, Percival was highly proficient, but anything could happen, especially when massive galloping horses and long, heavy lances were involved.

And then, something awful happened, indeed.

It was all so sudden; the whole disaster probably took less than twenty seconds total, yet it seemed much longer, as if drawn-out in frightening slow motion. Both horses began to charge, but almost instantly, something must have caught Gwaine's horse's eye, because the beast faltered, and began to rear up as Percival's steed thundered forward. Gwaine dropped his lance and was able to get a good grasp on the reins as he shouted, "Yield, yield!" hoping Percival would hear him over the sound of the charging hooves.

Percival realized there was a problem a second too late. Aethon reared up, front hooves flailing in the air, bucking wildly. The destrier threw Percival with great force. The man's body crashed against the hard-packed earth and his helmet flew off, rolling under the spectator stands.

As the knight smacked into the ground, his boot had become entangled in the saddle's flank strap. Immediately, the horse began to flee, dragging Percival behind him, the man's head cracking against the earth with the animal's every frantic gallop. His final thought before he lost consciousness was, "The baby..."

The flank strap finally snapped loose as the beast smashed through the nearby fence, freeing Percival's leg. The massive knight lay under the shattered pile of fencing, unmoving. His wife's favor was nowhere to be found.

Christiane stood still, completely and utterly frozen with shock. Immediately, the king leapt from his seat in the stands and vaulted onto the field to help. He, Gwaine, Leon, Ulrich, and Gaius all descended on the knight's prone, immobile body. The men turned Percival over swiftly amidst Gaius's instructions of, "Carry him to the tent at once!"

"This is a damn nightmare!" Gwaine lamented as the men ran toward the medical tent as fast as they could with Percival's lifeless body. "I'm sorry, so sorry. I don't know what happened to my horse..." Gwaine croaked.

"It was an accident, Gwaine. This is not the time to blame yourself," Gaius called after him, the old physician trailing the men.

Carina, who had been watching from the stands, finally shoved her way through the crowd to Christiane, who was deathly pale, hands clutching her substantial belly.

"Are you all right?" Carina asked urgently.

Christiane gave a slight nod with a bewildered look on her face.

Carina put her arm around her friend, guiding her toward the tent where Percival now lay, and said, "Come, let's see what's what before we panic."

The scene they came upon was as terrible as Christiane had feared. Percival lay totally motionless on the examination table. The men had been able to strip off some of his armor and there were no obvious injuries: no clearly broken bones, no major lacerations. Just fine trickles of blood from her husband's mouth, nose, and ear, which indicated the likelihood of a head injury. It was the stillness that terrified Christiane. The quiet. She'd rather Percival had been writhing and screaming. The silence and lack of movement did not bode well.

Gwaine was inconsolable, hands on his unconscious friend's arm, begging for forgiveness and demanding that Gaius fix Percival. Finally, Gaius insisted that Gwaine be removed from the tent forcibly by Arthur, Ulrich, and Leon, since the knight was unable to calm down.

Coming out of her initial shock, Christiane approached Percival. She shook violently, and her teeth chattered as she asked, "Is he breathing Gaius? Does he have a pulse?"

"Yes to both," he said as he lifted Percival's eyelids, studying each pupil intently. He let the lids close, then put a hand on the man's chest, as if trying to comfort him.

Gaius admitted, "His pupils are unequal sizes." He walked over to Christiane and held her shoulder. "You know that's a poor sign."

Christiane shook her head frantically. "No. No, it cannot be! Someone fetch Merlin, please! He can help!"

"I'm right here," Merlin answered, entering the tent purposefully. "Let me have a look."

Gaius gave Merlin an almost imperceptible shake of his head, but Merlin placed his hands on the large knight's chest anyway.

After a full minute of having maintained that position, Merlin told Christiane, "I don't know how to say this," with a tear in his eye, "but he's too far gone. When someone is this close to death, I cannot bring them back. But when you're ready, I can ease his passing."

Christiane, hysterical, charged Merlin like a wild woman and pummeled at his chest with her fists. Ulrich, Leon, and Arthur, having forced Gwaine to sit outside of the tent so he could pull himself together, heard the commotion and came rushing in to restrain her.

"No. No!" the hugely-pregnant woman wailed, kicking at the knights and king ferociously. "You could fix him if you really wanted to, you liar!" she accused as the men held her back with some difficulty. She'd become particularly strong in her anger and desperation.

"I promise you, I would if I could," said Merlin with compassion. "If I use my magic on him right now, it would only hasten his death. And I want to give you time to say goodbye to him first."

Christiane went limp in her friends' arms, sobbing. "I'm sorry Merlin, forgive me," She sobbed. "I'm not right in the head at the moment. I know you would save him if you could." Christiane turned to Gaius. "Is there any hope? Any at all?"

"As you know, from your experience as a healer, there is always hope until he draws his last breath. However, the longer he remains unconscious, the more hope fades." Gaius rested his hand lightly on her shoulder. "You should remain with him and talk to him. I'm certain that he can hear you. And if at any point you want Merlin, just ask."

Christiane dismissed everyone from the tent, including Carina, and they respected her wishes. She spent the next hour holding Percival's hand, reminding him of all of the wonderful times they had together, and telling him she loved him. She reminded him of the first night that they had walked around Camelot together, and how they'd accidentally butted heads. She told him once again she's known she loved him as far back as their first kiss when they had gone fishing. Christiane said if their baby was a boy, his name would be Percival, a girl, Malden, after his mother. Before she went silent, she admitted to her husband she didn't think she could go on without him.

The hours ticked by. Two, then three. It grew dark and chilly in the tent, but no one disturbed the mourning wife. Periodically, she checked to see if her husband had a heartbeat and if he was still breathing, which he was. She held his hand the entire time, occasionally kissing his cheek or stroking it, and reminding him that she loved him.

As the fourth hour neared, Gaius, Merlin, and Gwaine finally checked on Christiane. Gwaine embraced her, and they fell apart, both sobbing hysterically. Gwaine told her he wanted to sit with her, and they sat down together on a patch of grass in the corner of the tent.

Gaius decided to check Percival over one last time. The old physician thought he saw the man's eyelids flutter, but quickly assumed it was a trick of the dim light. Just to be sure, he called Merlin over. Merlin placed his palms on the knight's chest once again and unbelievably felt Percival's life force returning. He was just about to announce that fact when Percival's eyes flew open and he grabbed the front of Merlin's jacket in his fist, drawing the man toward him, demanding, "Where's my son?"

Gwaine and Christiane stood immediately. When Christiane realized her husband had actually spoken, she promptly fainted, but Gwaine was there to catch her.

"Where is he?" Percival asked again without releasing his fierce grip on poor Merlin. "I saw him. He was fat and bald, with his mother's eyes. I held him. I know it was him."

"You were in an accident, Percival. You were thrown from your horse and dragged, and were unconscious for many hours," explained Gaius calmly.

"That's right; I was," Percival said slowly as he released Merlin's jacket from his fist. "It must have been a dream. But it felt so real!" He tried to sit up and asked, "Where's Christiane?" However, he fell back against the examination table immediately and put his hands to his head, declaring, "I feel as if I have a spike jammed through my brain."

Christiane, recovering from her collapse, rushed to Percival's side and took his hand. "My God, I can't believe you're awake and alive! It's a miracle. There's no other explanation for it." She turned to Merlin. "Are you sure you didn't do something?"

He smiled and shook his head. "While I'd love to take credit, I'm not responsible."

Percival gazed at his wife; he was still somewhat bleary-eyed and a little slow. "I heard you. I heard everything you said to me." He squeezed her hand. "I wanted to answer you, to dry your tears, but I couldn't."

He touched his wife's hair, and continued, "I wasn't sure I was dying, but if I was, I thought of the two things I'd miss the most: never meeting our child and never making love to you again."

"Oh, Percival," Christiane wept.

Gaius interjected firmly, "Everyone, Percival will need a great deal of help during the next week or so. He's to remain in bed, only rising to use the chamber pot or privy. His head needs time to heal."

At that moment, Leon and Ulrich strode into the tent, and all of Percival's friends immediately chimed in that they would help. Leon began to put together a schedule of who would be available to help and when, what they could do to assist, and so forth.

Leon declared, "Christiane's only job should be to sit by her husband's side and provide company, pregnant as she is. We'll do the rest."

Everyone was incredibly relived and filled with joy about Percival's awakening. The king had received word that his loyal knight had woken, and he visited the tent to offer help and support, too. Once a stretcher had been brought in, Arthur, Gwaine, Leon, Ulrich, and Merlin carried the recovering knight back up to the castle and deposited him in his bed. Percival tried to resist at first, stating he could walk, but Gaius commanded that if the man really did want to see his child born, he'd recline on the stretcher and subsequently remain in bed for the week. That was enough to get Percival to comply.

Gaius told Christiane he would come by a few times that night to check on her husband, and instructed Christiane to fetch him straight away should Percival develop a worse headache, vomiting, symptoms of confusion, or, if she had trouble waking her spouse.

Gaius said to Christiane, "While you're a highly-competent healer, sometimes, it's better to leave a loved one's medical care to another person."

The crowd finally left the room, leaving only Percival, Christiane, and Gwaine. Gwaine asked Christiane if he could speak with his friend in private for a minute, and she graciously agreed. Later, she would make sure Gwaine understood no one was upset with him; he'd tried to control his horse and it was just a terrible accident.

Gwaine stood by the bed and started with, "Do you hate me, Percival?"

"Hate you?" Percival asked. "Why would I hate you?"

"It was my fault," Gwaine spat out. "I should have controlled the damn horse better. You could have died!" He went on to affirm, "I would have taken care of Christiane and the baby, I promise. You're my best friend, and if you hadn't made it…I don't know what I would have done."

Percival motioned for his friend to come closer. "I hope you wouldn't have taken care of my wife _too_ well," he teased. "I'm not upset with you in the least. You've always been there for me; you've saved my hide more times than I can count. I consider you a brother. Now that beast on the other hand…as soon as I can eat, we're having horse meat for supper."

Christiane returned to the chamber to find Gwaine and Percival laughing. Gwaine excused himself, and on his way out, Christiane emphasized that no one thought he was at fault, and that she regarded Gwaine as one of her closest friends.

"Burt I must ask," Christiane said standing next to Gwaine in the hallway, "do you have a special lady you're hiding from us?"

Gwaine looked thoroughly shocked. "Why would you ask such a thing?"

"I'm a woman, Gwaine. We sometimes sense these things. You've been a bit subdued lately and that's not like you."

"You cannot tell another living soul, Christiane, please," he begged. "It's Drea."

"Drea?" said Christiane with slight surprise.

"Yes, yes, don't look so shocked! The queen had me do some work on her home. I went back and spent some time with her son the next day, who's a smart and fun little guy. She does something to me. I can't explain it. Even though she acts as if I'm an unwanted nuisance."

"Oh, Gwaine, I'm sure she doesn't think that!" Christiane insisted. "Give her some time; she's been through quite an ordeal."

"I suppose so," he said glumly.

Christiane admitted, "I was wary of Percival at first, too. Give her reasons to trust you, and she'll come 'round."

"The wise Christiane strikes again." Gwaine hugged his friend. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

Christiane returned to her chambers and from his position in bed, Percival told her immediately, "You're going to think I'm mad, but I swear, when I was unconscious, I saw the future. I saw our son, and I know that it's him. You'll see. And then, I had a vision where he was older, on my shoulders, blonde hair, about six years old. A little girl held my hand. She looked like a tiny version of you, except with long, copper-colored hair. I think she was about four. You were on the other side of me, carrying a little boy with brown hair; he was maybe two years old. And you were pregnant."

"Four children!" Christiane grimaced. "That seems like a lot," she teased as she climbed onto the bed.

"You don't think I'm mad?" Percival questioned. "Or maybe, something was knocked loose in my head, and now I have magic like Merlin?"

"I don't think so," she said comfortingly, slipping into bed beside her husband. "I think it might have been a dream, things you want."

Percival sank deeper into his pillows and his eyes drifted closed. "You're probably right. And I do want to see you grow big with my children over and over again." He seemed to doze off for a moment, but then mumbled, "You've never been more beautiful," as he finally fell into a comfortable sleep.

Christiane sighed with relief, unbelievably grateful her husband had come back to her. She felt that a life without her beloved Percival would have been no life at all.


End file.
